


Wear Your Heart On My Sleeve

by DynamicDuo (XylB), XylB



Series: Post-Telltale [2]
Category: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Injury, M/M, Non-Binary OC, Sex, Trans Dick Grayson, Trans Male Character, except I have now dragged my Hal agenda into it, my fic my rules Hal is mid-twenties along with Grayson, retired Batman, set post-Telltale, villain Joker ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/XylB
Summary: When the end of Batman's career gave rise to two new careers, Stormcloud and Nightwing, they find that maybe there's a lot more than they bargained for, being in on the action.Tiffany never imagined forming a team like this.Robin didn't quite expect to fall in love.And Hal? Well, Hal's new in town.(Set post-Telltale Season 2, villain Joker ending. First fichere.)
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Hal Jordan, background Bruce/Jim - Relationship, background Tiffany/OC
Series: Post-Telltale [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856428
Comments: 22
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my other fic, [When The Dust Settles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25611316/chapters/62164942)! 
> 
> Both can be read as standalone, so I've included some explanation below so as not to confuse anyone reading this one by itself: 
> 
> 1\. This is set in the Telltale universe after season 2 (villain Joker ending); the game's plot isn't relevant for this fic, but the characters are pulled straight from the game 
> 
> 2\. The first fic focuses on Bruce and Jim's relationship, so they're together in the background now 
> 
> 3\. Grayson's name is actually Robin Grayson in this (picked it himself!) 
> 
> And I think that's it!
> 
> **As always, please don't interact if you ship incest.**

"Yeah, I'm on him." Robin swings his leg over the fire escape and climbs up onto the roof to stay off the roads, one eye on the obstacles in front and the other on the perp below. He jumps easily over the alleys - cramped buildings make the easiest parkour - and when he's just about to pull ahead of the guy on the ground, a green lasso whips out behind the guy and catches him around the middle, wrapping around him like a snake and stopping him in his tracks. He falls with a shout, trying to wriggle free but unable to.

Robin pauses, stepping back from the roof edge as he watches the the source of the lasso walk closer to the perp. He's...very green, and as Robin watches, the lasso fades out. Lasso Guy kneels to handcuff the perp. Robin quietly descends the side of the building, swinging down from the rickety metal stairs to land silently behind the pair.

A lasso whips towards him at amazing speed - Robin smacks it away with an escrima stick without flinching. Lasso Guy turns around, confused - but his face clears when he sees Robin.

"Oh, sorry," he says. "Thought you were another one of them." He jerks his thumb to the guy on the ground. Robin tilts his head.

"Who are you?" He asks. Lasso looks him up and down, his eyes lingering on the little Bat logo on Robin's arm.

"You're one of the Bat-people," he says, grinning. Robin doesn't answer.

"They call me Green Lantern," Green Lantern says.

"Is it because of the lantern?" Robin asks dryly, nodding towards the lantern hanging off of Green Lantern's belt.

"You know, that might be it," Lantern jokes - _jokes_ , casual as anything, as if Robin isn't still gripping his sticks. "What do they call you?"

"Nightwing."

Bootprints thunder in the distance. Lantern cocks his head.

"That sounds like my cue to leave," he says. "See you around, Nightwing."

And then he levitates off the ground. Robin blinks in surprise. Lantern winks at him and then twists to fly off into the night, nothing more than a green streak in the sky once he disappears into the cloud cover.

"Huh," Robin says to no one. "That was unexpected."

He scans the alley with his mask and waits for the police to arrive - the bootprints slow as they approach him, handcuffs and batons ready.

"Thanks, Nightwing," one of them says, heading towards the restrained perp.

"No problem," Robin says distractedly, and lifts his arm to aim up at the nearest building. With a flick of his wrist, he grapples up to the roof.

"They all down yet?" He asks over his comms.

"One left," Tiffany replies, the hiss of her jetpack in the background. "South of sixth."

"On my way."

\-- 

"Nice job out there," Tiffany says later, tugging her mask off and discarding it on the holographic table. "We got all six of them."

"Actually, it wasn't all me." Robin attaches his eyemask to its holder on his belt and starts taking off his suit. "I ran into somebody out there."

"Somebody?" Tiffany pauses in hanging up her jetpack. "A good somebody?"

"Seems so. He stopped and handcuffed a guy I was chasing."

"What did he look like?"

Robin shrugs. He nudges his boots under the Batcomputer - basically his territory by now. "Green. Green suit, green mask. He had some sort of...hologram technology, but it was tangible. And he can fly."

Tiffany frowns. "I haven't heard of him."

"Me neither. Guess we'll keep an eye out."

"Guess we will." Tiffany hangs up the last of her armour and grabs her civilian backpack from under the workshop table. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Robin says, lifting his hand in a wave. He finishes undressing and changes into an easy shirt and jeans to head upstairs.

The manor is quiet. But not dark - left on for him by Bruce. Or maybe Jim. Robin huffs out a chuckle as he flips off lights on his way up to his room. He makes quick work of a shower and settles gratefully into bed, groaning at the relief of the mattress. He reaches up to tug his curtains shut as far as he can from the bed and sets an alarm for mid-morning - the red numbers on his clock tell him he's only got a few hours before dawn anyway. At least tomorrow is Saturday - a day off. He falls asleep as easily as he always does after a night with the GCPD - which is to say, like a log.

\-- 

When he gets up at around noon, Robin takes his time getting showered, ready, and dressed, appearing in the manor kitchen at roughly twelve. Bruce is in there alone, the fixings of a sandwich laid out on the counter.

"Oh, hey Robin," Bruce says. "You want a sandwich?"

"If you're offering." Robin goes past him to grab a glass and fill it with water, chugging half of it in one go. He gets a second plate down at Bruce's request and goes to sit at the table.

"How'd last night go?" Bruce asks, glancing over his shoulder.

"Fine." Robin idly reads news headlines about the six arrests of bank thieves last night and skips them. He was there, he knows the story. "Went as expected."

He doesn't know why he doesn't mention Green Lantern - a mix of curiosity and an odd desire to keep it to himself for now. Well, him and Tiffany. He wants to know more before he tells Bruce - and anyway, it's no longer Bruce's job to keep tabs on Gotham. He retired from that months ago.

"Jim's already at work," Bruce says when he sits down to have lunch. "And I'm probably gonna make rounds at Twin Trees. So the manor's all yours."

Robin 'mhmm's around his sandwich, giving Bruce a thumbs-up.

"Thanks for lunch," he says when he's swallowed. He glances at the dinner rotation on the fridge - it's his turn to make it tonight. "I'll try not to steal the recipe." 

Conversation devolves into idle chatter from there, neither of them mentioning work.

\-- 

Robin sees Green Lantern again sooner than he expected. This time it's at a crime scene - nothing major, just a jewellery store busted wide open. Robin parks his bike a couple blocks down and walks the rest of the way while Tiffany flies ahead, her drones spreading out east and west to canvass the area.

Robin steps over spilled diamonds and moonlit silver on his way by, scanning the street for clues while they wait for the GCPD. He crouches to examine some shards of glass, but the fingerprints on it are numerous from both customers and staff. He needs to find something more concretely tied to the robbers - he spies a crowbar in the wreckage of the display window, and carefully avoids glass to pick it up and scan. The fingerprints still give off a slight heat signature.

"They're nearby," he tells Tiffany through the comms, glancing up to the sky.

Then, in the corner of his eye, a glimpse of movement. Robin puts the crowbar back and straightens slowly, staring at the mouth of the alley to the right of the store. When nothing else happens, he pulls one of his sticks from his back and walks towards the alley. A burst of green light and a rubber squeal flashes from it, and Robin quickly rounds the corner to see a giant green fist dissipating in mid-air beside a dumpster - the skid marks on the concrete tell Robin it's just been moved.

"Oh, hey, you again," Green Lantern says, dropping his hand. He smiles at Robin. "I was wondering when the Bat-brigade would get here."

"What are you doing here?" Robin counters. Lantern shrugs.

"I heard it phoned in on the scanner," he says. "I was in the area."

"GCPD are held up in a traffic jam," Tiffany reports in his ear. "I'm landing out front to wait."

"Sounds good," Robin replies, pressing the button in his ear. "I'm in the alley."

Green Lantern glances behind Robin, and Robin turns around to see Tiffany standing here, looking at both of them.

"You want help?" She asks in the comms. Robin shakes his head and Tiffany walks away, towards the shop front.

"You have backup," Lantern teases. "Cute. What's their name?"

"Stormcloud," Robin says. "I haven't seen you around before."

"Oh, I just moved here," Lantern says.

"The police will be here soon," Robin warns, crossing his arms. "You didn't seem eager to meet them last time."

His earpiece crackles. "Robin, there's blood," Tiffany says. "I've got an ID on it. I've already patched it through to the GCPD, but I might be able to find a trail."

Robin curses. "All right, I'll stay here. See if our new friend knows anything."

"I'm leaving Flo. Let you know what I find." Flo, a.k.a Tiffany's second drone. 

Robin approaches Lantern, idly spinning a stick in his hand as he looks at the spot Lantern revealed behind the dumpster.

"What were you doing here?" He asks, ignoring Lantern's gaze.

"Seeing if they tossed anything on their way out. They seemed in a rush."

"You saw them?"

"No," Lantern says. "But taking out all the windows? That's not a calculated move."

"I think they need money," Robin says. "They're looking to fence it."

Lantern nods. "I don't know what they took, but it'll be hard to miss. This place stamps every piece of theirs with a signature."

"How do you know that?" Robin glances quizzically over at Lantern, who flashes him a grin.

"I do my research," he says cryptically. Robin rolls his eyes. Lantern laughs attractively. _Damn him_.

"Nah, I just looked it up on my phone when I got here," he admits.

Sirens finally reach them. Green Lantern glances out of the alley.

"You wanna introduce me?" He asks, and Robin pauses. He realises what Lantern's doing - giving him the option to make him stay for the police as...an offer of trust? An olive branch? Proof he's not evil?

Robin considers him carefully. Then he jerks his chin past Lantern.

"If you jump that fence, you'll come out next to the park. It should be empty this time of night."

"Huh," Lantern says, surprised. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now scram."

\-- 

"It's not adding up," Tiffany says, frowning at the holographic map. "That jewellery hasn't shown up anywhere for a _week_. Usually the turnaround is quicker."

"Usually they're desperate," Robin agrees. "But they're being smart this time. 'Puter, load all crimes in the past two weeks."

"Loading." Robin grins at the robotic voice. He's still proud of the voice commands he hooked up.

A few red dots pop up on the map - not many, and none violent, but they parse through them anyway. Robin sorts through the ones closest to his side of the table, loading up the relevant crime reports on his tablet while Tiffany uses the holographic records. Drunk driving, vandalism, battery, breaking and entering a fireworks store - all petty and resolved crimes, some with trials on the way. Nothing shady about them. Robin rolls around the table to select a few more. Bar brawl, underage drinking, minor car accident, a break-in at the docks...

Robin squints at that last one. Two weeks ago. He remembers that. He rereads the file - four suspects, all charged, unresponsive to extensive interrogation, odd injuries, laughing, a lot of laughing -

"The jewellery store culprits," Tiffany says. "They seemed..."

"Off," Robin finishes. He turns the tablet around to show Tiffany his report. "The break-in at the docks, the vials, remember? Those people didn't seem right either."

"You think they're connected?" Tiffany asks.

"Do you think they aren't?" Robin grabs his jacket. "I think we should talk to Commissioner Gordon."

Out of their suits, they can't really be seen doing anything unusual - but going to the police station isn't unusual. Although the downside of being civilian means that the receptionist refuses to let them see the Commissioner, and it's only because of Tiffany's hounding that he phones up to ask if the Commissioner would be interested in seeing _the rowdy pair in reception_. Robin winks at him.

"Names?" The officer asks, frowning at them.

"Fox and Grayson," Tiffany replies in a clipped tone. The officer relays them back, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"O-Okay, yes Chief," he says before putting the phone down. He glares at them both, pushing the visitor sign-in towards them.

"Chief Montoya seems to think you have a good reason for being here," he says. "So fill this out."

"Gladly, Officer - " Robin squints at his name tag as Tiffany signs them in, " - Roberts."

Roberts' frown deepens.

"Don't antagonise him," Tiffany says, grabbing Robin's arm to tug him past the desk - Robin blows a kiss to Roberts, satisfied with the indignant huff he gets in return.

"You're insufferable," Tiffany tells him, but she's smiling.

"Thank you," Robin replies, pressing a hand over his heart. "You're so nice."

The stairs up to Jim's office are dull grey and packed with traffic - it's noon, lunch hour and early-to-late shift change. Robin mutters greetings to the few officers he knows as they squeeze past the crowd, emerging in the upstairs hallway and pausing a second to enjoy _not_ being packed in like sardines.

"Should've taken the back stairs," Robin says. Tiffany knocks on Jim's door and Jim shouts for whoever to come in.

"Sit down," Jim says gruffly. He glances up at Robin - on one of the monitors beside him, Robin can see the live CCTV feed of reception.

"Stop torturing my officers," Jim warns, pointing a finger at him.

"No promises," Robin laughs, and Jim drops the serious act to laugh with him, sitting back in his chair.

"What's up?"

"We need to talk to some of your detainees," Tiffany says, pulling out her tablet and giving it to Jim.

"We found some correlations between cases," Robin explains. "The jewellery hasn't shown up yet, and the suspects' behaviour matches the ones from the docks break-in. None gave straightforward answers, and all of them acted oddly."

"We think they're connected," Tiffany adds, smoothly filling in Robin's blanks. "Two seemingly unrelated crimes, with all perpetrators acting suspiciously? In the same way? There's something more to it, Jim."

"Yeah," Jim sighs. "We actually noticed that, too. I sent Montoya to interrogate the docks guys again, but, uh, they were - well, they were found dead in their cells that morning."

" _Dead_?" Tiffany's eyebrows furrow. "All of them?"

"All four," Jim agrees. "Last week. They're still working on the official cause of death, but early reports suggest asphyxiation."

"So they were...strangled? In their cells? Alone?" Robin asks. Jim shakes his head.

"Their throats...sort of swelled up."

"That's weird."

"It's definitely weird," Jim agrees.

"Toxicology report?" Tiffany asks.

"Negative. Nothing unusual in them."

Jim hands the tablet back.

"I'd appreciate it if you two could try and trace this," he says. "I've got detectives on it - I'll put them in touch with you. Anything else I need to know?"

"Well, actually, we met - "

"Nothing," Robin interrupts. Jim lifts an eyebrow. "Nothing important." Tiffany's stare burns holes into the side of his head. Jim regards them for a moment.

"Okay, then," he says, picking up his pen to continue his work again. "I'll tell SCU to share the cases with you. Look out for it."

"Will do, Jim," Robin says, and stands up to leave.

Tiffany, thankfully, waits until they're out of the GCPD to say anything.

"Nothing?" She asks. "You didn't think it was worth mentioning your little green friend?"

"His name is Green Lantern," Robin says. "And no, I didn't."

"Oh, _Green Lantern_ , excuse me," she snarks. "Why are you protecting him? He ran away from the police."

"I don't think he's connected," Robin defends, but then Tiffany stops walking. She crosses her arms over her chest. Tilts her head.

"Don't," Robin warns.

"You like him," she says. "Don't you?"

"No," Robin mumbles. A smile cuts into Tiffany's cheek.

"You _do_ ," she says. They start walking again, falling into step with each other.

"I just want to learn more about him before we turn him into the police," Robin says. "Or to Bruce."

Tiffany's eyebrow shoots up into her hairline. "You haven't even told _Bruce_ yet? Oh man."

"Shut up or I'm writing a love letter to the Jukebox barista. From you."

Tiffany holds up her hands in surrender, laughing. "Okay, okay, I won't do anything. You trust him?"

"I trust he's not involved," Robin says carefully. Tiffany nods.

"Then that's good enough for me," she says. "I trust you."

\-- 

Robin presses himself flatter to his bike, wind buffeting his helmet as he zips between cars, pulling up beside and passing the GCPD sirens - the van they're chasing weaves carelessly through traffic, wheels screaming against asphalt when it makes a sharp turn on two wheels to head onto the bridge. Robin kicks his motorcycle up a gear and zooms after him, dodging civilians as he tries to get close enough to stop the car in its tracks. He can see a police roadblock at the other end of the bridge, megaphones and signs urging civilians either to the sides of the bridge or off of it, but the van keeps barreling down the bridge at breakneck speeds. It speeds too close to a car and scrapes one of its sideview mirrors clean off - the debris shoots towards Robin and he dodges it with a curse, his bike leaning dangerously left. He rights it again and uses the scanning technology in his helmet visor to find weaknesses in the van.

"Block the wheels," Tiffany says in his ear, watching from a drone high above them. "Use the spike stops."

Robin nods and uses his thumb to roughly cycle through the bike's weapons - when he has the spike stops, he pulls up behind the van and fires them into the tyres. The van fishtails and the stops miss.

"Shit."

The bike automatically reloads and he tries again - this time he hits the tyres, spikes embedding themselves into the rubber and deflating it. The base plate attached to them makes the wheel an awkward shape. The van doesn't lose much momentum, though, and the roadblock rushes closer - Robin fires a few more desperate stops, sinking them into both back tyres and the right front one, and the distraction makes the van swerve violently to the right.

It doesn't slow. Robin spies a break in the roadblock, down to the right, and so does the van - it guns for the spot, but the base plate of the spike stop catches the pavement and everything goes slow-mo. The van trips, and flips forward - and right off of the bridge, careening down to the water below. Officers gasp and start shouting over radios, over megaphones, leaping into action. Robin skids to a stop by the edge of the bridge and steps over the barrier.

He dives in without a second thought - plummeting takes long seconds at this height, but he stays focused on the massive ripples where the van went into the water, and when his hands slice open the waves, he hardly registers the cold. He roughly pushes hair out of his eyes and comes up for air, freeing a temporary breathing device from his belt and shoving it into his mouth before diving back down.

The van's sinking fast. Robin swims down to it, fighting buoyancy, and sees the occupants inside. Without hesitating, he takes an escrima stick from his back, presses a button on it for a sharp point to slip out of the end, and grabs onto the door handle, gesturing to the people inside to get away from the window before he slams the butt of the stick against the glass. It takes a couple swings, but then the sharp point breaks the glass into a million small squares, and Robin wrangles the occupants out, pushing them upwards as the van settles on the river floor, air bubbling out of its windows. A couple of them start swimming upwards, but one looks helplessly at Robin, face red from lack of air.

Robin roughly wraps his arms around the man and kicks upwards, pulling him up with him. The man imitates his kicking, and when they break the surface into a blue helicopter spotlight, there's already a GCPD boat waiting for them - Robin pushes the man towards the ladder and dives back down to grab the other, much slower two. These guys he hauls up with a hand on each, tossing hair out of his eyes as GCPD officers drag them up onto the boat.

"You getting on, kid?" An officer asks Robin, shining a torch at him. Robin shakes his head and gestures to the shore. The officer nods and turns to give orders to his men.

Robin takes the breathing device out of his mouth and stows it on his belt again before swimming to the shore opposite where the police boats are docking - it's a longer swim to this side of the bridge, but it gets him away from the noise and the action, so it's worth it to him.

He pulls himself up on a hidden beach nestled at the base of the rocks under the bridge and pauses to catch his breath, looking up at the cliffs above him. Yeah, he can climb those.

"Robin? Are you okay?" Tiffany asks. Robin spies her drone hovering around the bridge and waves up to it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says. "Can you make sure they return my bike?"

"On it." He hears Tiffany tapping away at the Batcomputer. Almost funny, he thinks, that she stayed behind because this seemed like a very simple arrest, and look how it turned out. "You want help?"

"Nah, I'll take the long way home. See you later."

"See you later." And the earpiece clicks off.

Robin gathers his breath and pushes himself to standing, craning his neck to squint at the rocks. With a sigh, he starts climbing, dripping wet all over the handholds as he steadily makes his way up. It's not the worst cliff to climb - for one, it's at a slight angle instead of ninety degrees, and the closer Robin gets to the top, the more tree roots stick out of the gaps. Not as strong as rope, but a welcome break for his cramping fingers on tiny rock ledges.

When he slams a hand on the flat top, what seems like hours later, he breathes a sigh of relief. He moves his foot up to the last foothold - and his wet boot slips right off of it, landing on air - the shock almost sends him toppling back, desperately grabbing at rock outcroppings - but something wraps around his wrist, the one on the top of the cliff, and gently tugs him up. Once he's back on his feet, Robin stares at the glowing green rope.

"Thanks," he says, looking up to see Lantern standing by some bushes, the white light of the eyeholes in his mask the only artificial source of light once the rope fades. The moonlight dramatises the clifftop, hides the black parts of Lantern's suit.

"Welcome," Lantern says. Robin nods and turns around to sit on the cliff, legs dangling over the edge. Lantern glides smoothly up beside him, his feet touching the ground again out of the corner of Robin's eye.

"Really? You just almost snapped your neck there," Lantern says, but joins him in sitting down.

"You won't let me fall."

He can feel Lantern regarding him. Robin watches the action on the bridge as the GCPD work to clear the roadblock and guide civilians off of it.

"That was impressive," is all Lantern says. Robin lifts an eyebrow.

"You didn't want to come down and help?" He asks, but not accusing.

"Got here late," Lantern says. "I was scouting out a warehouse on the other side of town. It had weird amount of large deliveries this week. No paperwork for half of them."

"A warehouse?"

"Found this there." Lantern shows him a glass vial. There's odd, non-liquid green stains on the inside, like scorch marks. Their gloves brush together when Robin takes it from his palm to inspect it.

"These were stolen a few weeks ago," he says, holding it up to the moonlight to try and get a better look at the green scorches.

"Seems they've been used."

"Can I keep this?"

Lantern nods. Robin tucks it into a compartment on his belt.

"Y'know, the bike's pretty sexy," Lantern says, nodding down at where a couple of officers are loading Robin's bike into a van. Robin laughs.

"Sexy?" He asks, turning to face Lantern - but he hadn't realised how close they are.

It hasn't escaped Robin's notice, the last couple times, that Lantern seems to be very attractive under the mask. But he doesn't have an excuse for the way he glances down at Lantern's lips and back up to his eyes.

"Yeah," Lantern says, his breath puffing out gently over Robin's lips. "At least on you."

He's _flirting_.

"Maybe I'll give you a ride sometime," Robin says.

"On the bike?"

"On anything you like," Robin smirks. Lantern's cheeks change hue in the moonlight.

Robin's phone ringing breaks them apart. He checks the caller - Bruce. Although he's down as Batman in Robin's work phone. Just to keep up appearances.

"I gotta go," he sighs. "Debrief. I'll see you around?"

"It's a date, Nightwing."

\-- 

Over the next few days, Robin and Tiffany work closely in the Wayne Enterprises lab to decipher the vial - and the contents inside. Externally, the vial seems fine, but they suit up in Hazmat suits and gas masks to open it. They also put it in a sterile glass box to open it up - the sort with gloves already attached to holes so they can reach in and handle it. The regulators don't indicate any strange gases inside the vial, so they take swabs of the scorches and study them. Robin patches in the Batcomputer to help micro analyse. The whole process takes days before they have any pieces of the puzzle.

"So it's some sort of anaphylaxis," Tiffany says. "Or a toxin that causes swelling."

"Mixed with some components of laughing gas," Robin notes. "So it targets the throat."

"Traces of neurotoxins in there, too." Tiffany spins the 3D molecule on the Batcomputer. "It causes some sort of hallucination?"

"But it takes days, _weeks_ to work," Robin says.

"Unless it was used to coerce," Tiffany points out. "Gas them with this, then take advantage of them, and by the time they're caught, it's left the body."

"But it causes some sort of permanent swelling."

"Yeah."

Tiffany looks worried. Robin feels the same.

"This isn't good," she says. "I don't know who it is."

"Laughing and gas tells me Joker," Robin theorises. "But he's in Twin Trees. And this isn't clown-themed enough for him. Guess we should test this on our gas masks."

The gas masks pass the test, but they still draw up blueprints for a more robust design - just in case.

The rest of the week is spent upgrading the masks and searching thoroughly for traces of the toxin in any previous crimes - Robin forwards the information on to Jim, who confirms that the toxin was found in the blood Tiffany spotted at the jewellery crime scene. He has medical professionals watching the new prisoners closely, but so far they're alive. Together, Robin and Tiffany start brainstorming an antidote, spending long nights testing out different combinations with the Batcomputer to see what best neutralises it.

It's slow work. But it keeps them busy while they wait for the next toxin-related crime. It keeps them split up, as well, only sending one of them out for petty crimes at a time - with the other on backup, if they need it, but primarily still working on the more pressing toxin case.

Robin runs into Lantern a few more times - some with Tiffany, and some by himself - and it's almost... _nice_ to see him, now. It's odd, being so friendly (and flirty) with someone he hardly knows, but Lantern makes it simple. He's fun, laidback, and _incredibly_ easy to talk to, even though they don't talk about much other than the crime in front of them - and can Robin really be blamed for liking the guy? The cases are normal enough, but it's different trawling through a smashed storefront with Green Lantern than it is with the GCPD, and Robin slowly finds himself looking _forward_ to seeing that telltale green, to seeing the inevitable smile on Lantern's face when he appears.


	2. Chapter 2

"I haven't seen any more of those vials," Lantern greets Robin with, landing softly beside him on the rooftop. Robin nods, watching carefully as a truck pulls into the loading bay. He and Tiffany had decided to split up to check out Lantern's warehouse - Tiffany keeping an eye on the route to trace the truck back to a supplier with traffic cameras, and Robin to follow the truck after it left the warehouse. If they end up at the same place at the end of the night, then good. If not, then that means either the delivery guys are smart or they've caught on.

"I assume that's what they're unloading," Robin says. "How'd you know I was here?"

Lantern shoots him a look. "I saw you."

"So you followed me?"

"I...decided to offer you my support," Lantern defends, breaking into a laugh when Robin does. Robin glances at him.

"You wanna help me follow the truck?"

"Definitely."

They watch in silence, waiting for the unloading to be finished. About half an hour later, the truck's engine starts up again.

"They're leaving," he says unnecessarily, standing up. He mindlessly offers a hand to Lantern, who takes it and pulls himself up.

"You going on foot?" Lantern asks. Robin nods.

"You joining me?"

"I'm not nearly flexible enough for that," Lantern says. Robin rakes his eyes up and down Lantern, grinning.

"I wouldn't say that," he says - Lantern's eyes burn white holes at him. Robin glances at the truck.

"Hurry up, he's leaving," he says, and shoots Lantern another grin before taking off, parkouring easily to the next rooftop. He looks back to see Lantern lowering himself smoothly to the ground, and then loses sight of him under the roof.

Robin runs alongside the truck on the rooftops, waiting for it to hit a less populated area so he can jump onto the top of the cab. He glimpses flashes of green between the roofs underneath him, and glances down to see Lantern keeping pace on a glowing green motorbike, except the wheels don't spin. The bike just - _glides_. _Cool_.

When the truck slows at a stop light, Robin uses a telephone pole to propel himself onto the top of the truck, landing neatly on the top of the container. He flattens himself to the top and crawls towards the back - Lantern spots him and deconstructs the bike, flying up to join him. Robin gestures to the back doors and mimes unlocking; Lantern nods and wraps green rope around Robin's ankles as Robin climbs down the back, holding tight onto the poles when the truck starts moving again. He puts on his gas mask and unbolts the back while Lantern uses a green plate to keep the door from swinging wide open and alerting the drivers. Robin slips in. His scanner and mask indicate no toxin traces, so he reaches a hand out to give a thumbs-up to Lantern, who swings in to join him, closing the door behind them. He shines a light inside.

The back isn't empty.

"Holy shit," Robin says. There's boxes upon boxes of uniforms - GCPD uniforms, Robin discovers when he paws through the nearest one. And GCPD weapons, and badges, and fake IDs -

"They're pretending to be cops," Lantern says. "But there's...hundreds of uniforms in here."

"I don't know what they're planning to infiltrate, but we have to stop it." Robin presses his ear comms. "Tiffany, they've got GCPD gear."

"Get it stopped," she replies immediately. "I'm calling Montoya about the supplier - I know where they came from."

"On it." Robin jams speed dial on his gauntlet.

"...hello?"

"Jim, the truck I'm following, they have GCPD gear. Fake IDs. I'm sending you my location."

"Shit," Jim says wearily. "I'm sending men out. Stop the truck."

"We're stopping the truck," Robin tells Lantern.

"Easy," Lantern says.

But when they emerge from the back, guns fire at them, denting the metal of the container and forcing them back inside.

" _Shit_ , they've got backup," Robin pants. "Can you - "

"I can shield us," Lantern says, holding up his hand. "What are you going to do?"

"Take out the cars," Robin says, unsheathing his batarangs. Lantern laughs.

"Hot," he says. The darkness of the container hides Robin's flush.

"Get ready," Lantern says, and flings the door open, forming a wide shield in front of them. Robin darts around to toss batarangs at the arms sticking out of windows with guns - he knocks a few rifles free, ducks behind the shield for the next barrage, and readies more batarangs for round two.

Except the cars get wise. As well as shooting, they start accelerating, bumping the bottom of Lantern's shield and trying to ram them - the truck shudders, Lantern stumbles back, and Robin catches him around the waist - but the distraction makes the shield flicker, and a bullet nicks the Kevlar lining of Robin's suit between armour plates.

"Fuck," he gasps, reaching up to the sudden, searing pain and finding blood. It's not much more than a scrape - mostly from the friction of his suit tearing than the bullet, but it still _hurts_. Lantern looks worriedly at him. Robin nods - _I'm fine_ \- and reorients himself behind Lantern, readying his last trio of batarangs in his other hand. One whizzes into the windshield of the front car - the second breaks it, and the third embeds itself gruesomely in the drivers' arm. The driver screams and swerves, smashing the car against a fire hydrant. Water bursts up in a giant fountain as the airbags pop - but Robin sees the occupants moving, so it didn't kill them. Good.

He hears sirens in the distance as the second car pulls up to replace the first, shooting at them with wild abandon. Robin and Lantern take a chance to regroup, glancing at each other as they plan.

"You have anything else?" Lantern asks, nodding to his belt.

"Shock devices," Robin says. "But I can't get them into the car from here." He rolls the shoulder of his injured arm and looks at it.

"I can get on the car," he says.

"You're injured," Lantern shoots back.

"Not badly. I can do it," Robin insists. "I just need to take out the guns first."

Lantern looks between him and the car.

"I can get the guns," he says. "But I'll need to drop the shield."

"Do it." Robin hides behind a door and watches as Lantern ducks behind the other and leans out to shoot a neat dagger from his ring. Robin hears the shout and hears one gun stop firing - Lantern shoots off two more and then there's no more gunfire, and Lantern nods at him.

Robin waits for the car to try to ram the truck again and then leaps onto it, scrabbling for purchase on the hood and pulling himself up - he kicks away a hand grabbing at his ankle and reaches in through the drivers' side window to knock out the driver, slamming his head forward against the steering wheel. It's quick work to deter the two passengers, punching one of them out cold and shoving the other back in as the car slows to a stop.

"Nice," Robin says as sirens appear around the corner. He points out the escaping truck and watches SWAT vehicles rush past him to pursue it.

Something _whooshes_ by him and Robin's suddenly in the air, kicking wildly - then he recognises the arm around his waist, and Lantern deposits him on the nearest rooftop, holding him steady as they land.

"A little warning next time?" Robin pants, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "Jesus."

"Is your arm okay?" Lantern asks, a note of concern in his voice.

"Yeah," he says, turning to look at it. "Just needs a bit of first aid."

They watch as GCPD arrive and arrest the car shooters, barking orders into radios and slapping handcuffs on the six men.

"Well, thanks for coming along," Robin says. "You saved my ass."

"Why wouldn't I?" Lantern replies, grinning. "It's a nice ass."

Robin chuckles and straightens. Lantern steps closer to him. There's only inches between them. This close, Robin can see the stubble on Lantern's jaw, the chap on his lips. Almost unthinking, Robin leans in.

Lantern copies him. Hands appear on Robin's hips.

"I really have to go, Lantern," Robin says, his lips brushing Lantern's. Hot air puffs out over his cheek.

"Please, call me Hal," Lantern says. Robin feels his grin more than sees it. Lantern slips something into his belt.

"I'll see you later," he promises, and steps back to fly away.

Robin, confused, touches his belt where Lantern tucked something in - it's a slip of paper.

And when Robin unfolds it, a slip of paper with ten digits on it.

\-- 

Robin's fingers twitch. He stares unblinking up at the soft, moonlit ceiling. His arm is bandaged up now, painkillers suppressing the ache. The GCPD have been briefed, he and Tiffany have recorded all their new evidence, the Batcave is shut down for the night/early morning, Robin's had dinner, he's showered. All that's left to do is sleep.

Except every time he closes his eyes all he can see is green. But mostly what's under the green - pink lips, shadowed jaw, stupid, cocky _winking_. The flirting, the hand lingering by his hip. Lips brushing against his own in an almost-kiss that makes Robin's heart race more than it should.

Robin thumps his head deliberately against the pillow. It really has been _way_ too long since he last got laid.

With a defeated sigh, Robin licks his fingers and slides his hand under the covers and into his underwear. Unlike the last time he did this, he's not thinking of generic fantasies or replaying videos in his head - this time, all his thoughts are centred around Hal. He shivers with the first stroke he gives himself, relaxing into the pillow as he fantasises idly of Hal, thinks about pushing that stupid grin into a bed and melting all that cocky arrogance away with his fingers, his tongue, until Hal's panting for more. Because he doesn't really know what Hal looks like under the mask, Robin imagines this all with Hal suited up, with the white-lit lens over his eyes, with white-gloved fingers clutching at Robin's bedsheets - Robin pants quietly to himself, resting his forearm over his eyes as his hips reflexively rock up to meet his hand.

He can't stop thinking of Hal on his knees, on his back, up against the wall - really any position that lets Robin shut him up a bit, although he can't help wondering what kinds of noises Hal might make with a hand on his cock. Wonders if he'd try to muffle them, wonders if he'd whimper when Robin stops touching him - imagines what Hal might look like _desperate_ , grabbing at Robin to tug him closer, maybe beg - Robin's breath hitches with a small noise at the thought, and sweat gathers at the base of his spine, but he's too close to try and cool down now. His mind spins as it tries to settle on an image, speeds it up to match reality, so many different, _hot_ scenarios whirling around his head that Robin bites down on his forearm when he comes, thinking about Hal's mouth and how good it would look with something in it.

He pants loudly as he calms down, idly rubbing himself until he's stopped by a spark of oversensitivity - he pulls his hand out, barely damp, and wipes it on his shirt anyway while he catches his breath, head still spinning with images. Even looking up at the ceiling doesn't help.

Robin glances at the slip of paper on his bedside table.

"Fuck it," he murmurs, and grabs his phone to text the number.

\-- 

Two days later, Robin finds himself outside of a door with Thai takeout in his hands at an address Hal texted him.

_Ridiculous_ , Robin thinks. _Two days and I'm at his place_.

He rings the doorbell. The door opens a few moments later to reveal Hal - who indeed looks _very_ attractive under the mask. Hilariously, his eyes are green. Robin swallows thickly, his stupid fantasy barrelling into him at full speed.

"Hey," he says. Hal looks confused.

"Do I know you?" He asks. Robin gives him a withering stare. Hal still looks puzzled.

"Robin," Robin says. Hal frowns and shrugs. _No clue_. Robin can't tell if he's serious or not.

"Nightwing," Robin deadpans, and watches the recognition dawn on Hal's face.

"Sorry," he says, a grin settling on his face. "I didn't recognise you without the hot outfit."

"I already regret this," Robin assures him, and walks in.

A few minutes in and he's already forgotten all about regretting it. Hal's set the table - _set the table_ \- and even poured out drinks for them both. Over idle chatter and ribbing, they sit down for dinner, and Robin is...very surprised at how easily the conversation flows even when they're not at a crime scene. He actually _learns_ things about Hal, things beyond the very obvious and pressing fact that he's incredibly handsome and definitely flirting with Robin the entire time.

For one, Hal went to a _flight academy_. To be a _test pilot_. Which is a mix of ridiculous and surprising, but it turns out Robin doesn't have to worry about military secrets since Hal never actually got a job testing planes. He found the ring and lantern at a classified crash site at a trial period for his first job out of the academy - told to Robin through resignation - and never got a chance to turn them in.

"It liked me," Hal explains with a shrug. "I dunno. It just... _called_ to me."

"I'm honestly surprised you're not on a government wanted list," Robin says dryly. "You stole tech from a _classified site_."

"In my defence," Hal says, grinning, "it was their fault they sent out a rookie to investigate it. My CO was running late."

"That's ridiculous," Robin laughs. "So what, it spoke to you?"

"Not really." Hal's mouth twists into a frown. "I don't know how to explain it, but it's like...it _fits_ me. I was curious. Sue me. I tested it out."

"And started investigating crime scenes?" Robin raises an eyebrow. "That's one hell of a backstory."

"I mean, it wasn't _immediate_ ," Hal admits. "But I figured out pretty quickly it was...powerful." He smiles. "And how hard can crimefighting be?"

Robin laughs loudly - Hal joins him, a moment later, and conversation continues from there.

For two, he's only been doing this Green Lantern thing for a couple years, and quickly changed jobs after the classified site to work as a part-time mechanic now in a local auto shop, to pay the bills. He used to live in Coast City, all the way in California, and moved here more recently. He has a brother back on the west coast, and a couple exes - and his favourite colour is blue, surprisingly. And he's remarkably, almost _disarmingly_ charming even with noodle sauce smeared over his lower lip.

Okay, so maybe Robin just noticed that last one, but it doesn't make it any less true.

"I didn't have much going on," he answers with a shrug. "Too busy moving, really."

"You expect me to believe you had no hobbies?" Hal gives him a look. Robin shrugs again, but glances down at his plate instead of Hal. He doesn't usually talk about his personal life before college, but Hal...Hal could probably ask him anything and he would answer, that's how _easy_ Hal makes it.

"I used to swim competitively," he says. "Through high school and college. And I then started volunteering with the Coast Guard."

"Coast Guard? Holy shit, that's impressive," Hal says, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. Robin laughs.

"It's just volunteering," he says. "I used to do it every weekend, but then had to drop to every other."

"So have you like, ever saved anyone?"

Robin spins noodles idly around his chopsticks. "I guess? It was mostly stalled boats and flipped jetskis, though. Or kids falling off piers."

"Well then, next time I go to the beach I'll make sure to stall my engine," Hal says, grinning at him. "See if I can get the handsome Coast Guard to _rescue_ me."

"You can swim," Robin deadpans. Hal chuckles.

"I can't, actually," he says. "Not well."

"You were a test pilot."

"We had life rings. I _can_ swim, technically, but it's not a strong suit."

Robin sighs into the last mouthful of his noodles. Hal laughs at him, tucking his chopsticks on his empty plate and pushing it to the side. Robin copies it.

"I can't believe you actually have chopsticks," Robin says, wiping sauce off of his fingers with a napkin. The disposable chopsticks he brought lay unused in the takeaway bag.

"What can I say? I like Thai," Hal says, stretching in his chair. Robin glimpses a sliver of skin just above Hal's waistband. When he rests his elbows on the table again, Robin's managed to force his gaze away. Hal spins his glass on the table.

"Hey, you wanna relocate?" He asks, gesturing to the sofa. "Watch a film, play a game?" He smiles. "I've got Assassin's Creed."

"Sold."

Robin goes to pick up his drink but Hal grabs it before he can, winking at Robin before heading over to the connected living room. Robin shoves his kitchen chair in and follows, vaulting over the back of the sofa to land beside Hal. Hal hands him a controller while the TV loads.

"But don't you want to play something together?" Robin asks, lifting an eyebrow. Hal waves him off and grabs a packet of Doritos from under his coffee table.

"We can switch to something else later," he says. "Or take turns on this." He grins.

Robin shrugs. "Works for me."

As they play, switching controller for Doritos and back again, they gradually scoot together on the sofa. Neither mentions it, but Robin definitely notices it, notices how the swapping gets them closer, until Hal's over on his side of the sofa, thigh pressed up to his, shoulders bumping when they change games to Rocket League. Robin doesn't hide his heated glances. Hal returns them. The timbre of Hal's laughter echoes in Robin's bones when he crashes violently into a goalpost, swearing rapidly under his breath. Hal isn't much better, drifting away from the ball each time Robin accidentally nudges him and twisting the controller as if that'll help the steering. What snippets of conversation - and of flirting - they were having before devolves into frantic shouting - and yelling, eventually, when one of them misses the pass or scores an own goal. It's _fun_.

Robin hardly notices when the evening light outside the window shifts into full darkness. Hal declares a break when he misses another goal, and closes the game while Robin tries not to choke on his drink with laughter. This time, when he sneaks a glance at Hal, Hal's staring right back, the tension so much louder with the sounds of the game removed. Robin's fingers itch to tug him close.

"Y'know, I haven't had someone over in ages," Hal says casually, leaning back against the sofa. "Whole - secret identity and all. It's been nice."

"Or are you just picky?" Robin teases, resting an arm over the back of the sofa. He rests against the sofa arm to face Hal.

"Maybe a little," he allows. He grins, slow, eyes dragging down to Robin's open legs and back up. "Or maybe I just have a type."

Robin smirks. "Maybe I have one too," he answers. Glances at Hal's lips. "What's yours?"

A cocky smile cuts into Hal's cheek. His knee brushes Robin's.

"Dark hair," he says.

"How dark?"

"Think black," Hal shoots back.

Robin raises a black eyebrow.

"Blue eyes," Hal continues.

"Ah, so Bruce Wayne," Robin says.

"Has a great ass," Hal adds, dropping his voice a pitch.

"Still Bruce," Robin says, but he's looking intently at Hal now. 

"Not that I wouldn't say no to him," Hal says. He boldly rests a hand on Robin's knee. The move forces him to lean a little closer. "But my type is more...available."

"And how do you know that?" 

"I don't," Hal admits. "But I wanna find out." He pauses, licks his lips. "Are you? Available?"

The answer hangs in Robin's throat for a long second, a mix of thrilling and nerves as he stares at Hal.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm available."

Hal's hand runs higher up his thigh and Robin closes the gap between them, running a hand into Hal's hair as their lips meet - it quickly escalates, Hal scooting closer as he sets his hand on Robin's hip, gasping a little when Robin tugs on his hair - _interesting_. Robin pulls him bodily closer, skating his other hand over Hal's side, digging his fingers into the muscle of his back - it should be _illegal_ how thrilling it is, to feel Hal's skin against his own, to feel how hot Hal runs underneath the shirt, to feel his hair against Robin's forehead, all so heightened without the suits on. Hal pants openly against his mouth, both of them getting a little sloppy as hands wander - Robin brings up his leg to hook it around Hal's thigh, encouraging him closer, but when Hal moves with it, a bolt of arousal shoots straight down Robin's spine and the nerves reappear.

"Mm - mm, wait, wait," he gasps, gripping Hal's arms and pushing him back a little. He doesn't _want_ to stop, but he has to. Hal looks confused, a little furrow between his eyebrows, at odds with his spit-slick lips.

"Robin?" He asks.

"I have - I have to tell you something," Robin says - Hal withdraws a little to give him more space.

"What?"

"I'm...I'm trans," Robin says, breath hitching nervously. It feels like hours before Hal responds, each half-second exaggerated to half- _hours_ with how hard Robin's heart is beating.

"Okay," Hal says, the furrow smoothing back out. Robin laughs, a touch hysterically. It's so stupidly _simple_ , Hal's answer, like nothing could phase him.

" _Okay_?"

"I - I mean, it's...thanks for trusting me," Hal says, rubbing little circles into Robin's knee with his thumb. "But for - it doesn't change anything."

Robin sighs in relief.

"Just means you have something slightly different," Hal continues, eyes burning into Robin's. "I still want you."

In response, Robin just grabs the front of his shirt and tugs him back in, muffling Hal's surprised sound with a hard kiss. Hal doesn't hesitate to melt back into him, hand sliding back up his thigh and the other bracing itself on the sofa arm behind Robin, who rucks up the back of Hal's shirt to splay his hand against skin, skate his fingers down Hal's spine to make him shiver - Hal makes a soft little noise against his mouth and his hips buck forward. Robin breaks the kiss to glance down, swallows thickly when he sees the obvious bulge in Hal's jeans. He looks back up at Hal, meeting his eyes, and slowly drags his hand down and around to Hal's front, pressing his palm to him in a slow roll.

"Fuck," Hal spits, and dips back down to kiss him, his hand shoving up Robin's shirt to slide over his middle, thumb his happy trail - and pause before he gets any lower. "Tell me what's good," he breathes - Robin shivers at the rumble of his voice.

"I'll tell you on the way," Robin murmurs, burying his free hand in Hal's hair to kiss him. He rolls his hips up eagerly and Hal takes it as the yes it is, running his thumb under Robin's jeans and laying his palm over the bulge under the zipper - Robin pants against his lips and stops touching Hal long enough to guide Hal's fingers down to curl under the packer - Hal presses up and Robin gasps into the kiss, nodding.

He feels Hal's smile more than sees it, and palms Hal again to make it drop into a low, quiet moan. It's more frantic after that, Robin rocking up into Hal's fingers as Hal roughly shoves his hips forwards, small noises muffled against Robin's mouth. He makes more sound than Robin expected - than he _imagined_ , and the thought makes him so immediately horny it makes him just a little dizzy. Hal rubs his knuckles against Robin in a filthy grind and Robin groans, hooking his leg around Hal's thigh again to bring him closer, but Hal breaks the kiss to speak.

"Can I blow you?" He asks, pupils dilated, chest shuddering with heavy panting - Robin curses and nods, tucking his fingers in Hal's belt loops to tug pointedly on them.

"Only if I can return the favour," he says, looking into Hal's eyes. Hal honest-to-god _whimpers_. Small, quiet, but Robin instantly wants to drag more of them out. "You got protection?"

"Yeah, yeah, in - I'll go get it," Hal breathes, kissing him again before hurriedly disentangling himself from Robin to head to the bedroom. Robin takes the chance to remove his packer, stumbling over to his backpack in the corner to put it away before returning to his spot on the sofa, legs splayed over the indents of Hal's knees.

Hal emerges from his bedroom and stops, staring at him. Robin lifts an eyebrow, smiles invitingly.

"Wow," Hal says as he tumbles back on the sofa, dropping a few foil packets on the table behind Robin's head. "Wow, you look _hot_ , I never imagined - "

"You thought about me?" Robin teases, but the bright blush that burns Hal's cheeks sends heat straight between his legs. He glances at the packets on the table.

"I didn't know what you wanted," Hal says, ducking his head as Robin reaches awkwardly behind himself to pick up a dental dam.

"This works fine," he says. Then, just because he can, he rips it open with his teeth - one of his favourite tricks - and hands the opened packet to Hal.

"Jesus fuck, Robin," Hal says, and kisses him fiercely.

Before Robin can get his hands anywhere interesting, Hal slides to the floor, his knees hitting the rug with a thud. Then his hands are on Robin's thighs, tugging him down a bit for a better angle, and Robin's throat clicks when he swallows, spreading his legs so Hal can fit between them. Hal impatiently pulls down his jeans and underwear - a dirty, desperate move that makes Robin's blood run hotter than it should - and shoves them down to his ankles, shuffling in to fill the space. He rests his hands on Robin's thighs, dam held under his fingers, and glances up at Robin.

"Show me," he says, and Robin shivers. He grabs one of Hal's hands and licks the thumb - slowly, deliberately. Hal's eyes follow the movement. Robin presses that thumb to his cock, tries to suppress the pleasant shudder it sends through him, and moans a little when Hal rubs a circle.

"Just there," Robin says, his head tipping back against the sofa. "Fuck, Hal." He lifts his head again, with effort, to watch Hal jack him off - Hal's eyes are fixed on his face, as if cataloguing all of Robin's reactions, and he feels oddly exposed under Hal's gaze, ears burning at the tips.

Hal licks his thumb. Robin swears under his breath, jumps at the new cool wetness on his dick when Hal goes back to stroking. But Hal only stays there for a few more moments before opening the dam, unfolding it and pressing it over Robin, thumbs holding it in place on either side of Robin's cock. Robin slides a hand into Hal's hair, raises his eyebrows in silent question. Hal nods, and leans up to press a trail of kisses down Robin's happy trail, drag teeth in a tantalising scrape over his skin - Robin relaxes back into the sofa, eyes glued to Hal's mouth - and when Hal kisses his dick, it kicks all the air out of him like a punch, like diving into water. Hal mouths generously at him for a long minute.

Robin's hips buck involuntarily when Hal first presses his tongue to him - even through the dam, it's all sensation, a softer pressure than Hal's fingers but still more than enough to make Robin moan and fist his hand in Hal's hair. Hal glances up at him through his lashes as he licks, dampening the dam - Robin feels some of his spit drip lower, and pants quietly at the feeling. Hal closes his eyes and seals his lips around Robin to start sucking - Robin _feels_ his smug little chuckle when Robin moans louder. But he doesn't tease Robin any longer, thank _fuck_ , adding his index fingers to pin the dam in place as he starts bobbing, his chin bumping pleasantly against Robin, rough breaths huffing out of his nose against Robin's skin, ruffling the hair there.

"Hal," Robin pants, then groans at a particularly hard suck, thighs tensing under Hal's hands. Hal squeezes them gently, opens his eyes to look up at Robin, and Robin almost comes at the sight - instead, he pulls a little on Hal's hair just to hear Hal whimper against him.

Hair tickles his inner thighs as Hal sucks greedily at him, head moving steadily faster under Robin's hand - Robin's other hand clutches desperately at the sofa, toes curling in the carpet. Hal pops off to catch his breath, replacing his tongue with rapid fingers and dropping wet kisses to Robin's inner thighs while Robin stifles a whine, hips rolling up eagerly, pleadingly - he's _close_ , the thrill of Hal between his legs pushing him near the edge faster than usual, and thankfully Hal seems to pick up on it, trails his kisses up to suck on him again. He _growls_ against Robin's dick. The vibrations make Robin shudder.

"'M close," he warns - Hal nods, hair coming loose over his eyes, and Robin is transfixed at the sight, focuses on the colour in Hal's cheeks, on the sweep of his eyelashes, on his spit-slick lips and the way he pants through his nose, the tendons in his arms standing out in sharp relief as his fingers dig into Robin's thighs - Robin's fantasies dull in comparison to the real thing, and that's really the last coherent thought Robin has before Hal presses the point of his tongue against the underside of his cock and Robin comes with a ragged moan, hand fisting in Hal's hair and thighs clamping to Hal's forearms.

Hal groans openly against him and suddenly drops a hand between his own legs - Robin's abs crunch up with the sharp wave of arousal that cuts through him at the sight. Hal's tongue pushes insistently at him, sending rippling aftershocks through his whole body, but too soon, Hal pulls away, wiping his mouth crudely against his wrist and panting up at Robin.

Instead of complaining, Robin urges Hal back up over him - Hal scrambles to climb up the sofa, wedging a knee between Robin's legs so he can bend down and kiss him, tasting of spit and latex. Robin relaxes the hand in Hal's hair to stroke it down his back, uses his other to deftly unbutton and unzip his jeans, sliding his fingers inside to tease. The whimper Hal muffles against him tells him all he needs to know.

"Sit down," Robin says, pushing Hal over to sit down beside him. He discards the dam in the coffee table bin and tugs up his jeans and underwear for some semblance of normalcy before sliding to his knees and shuffling between Hal’s legs.

“Jesus,” Hal breathes. Robin jerks his chin up to the table. 

“Hand me one,” he says. Hal shakily reaches for and gives him a condom, watching with wide eyes as Robin handles his jeans, spreading the zipper open and snapping the elastic of his briefs down underneath him. 

Robin tears the packet open with his teeth again and wiggles his eyebrows at Hal, who makes a hitched moan when Robin wraps his hand around his dick. He gives Hal a couple dry strokes – and then _not_ so dry, he discovers, when he glances down. He swipes his thumb over the head to gather up the clear slick there and drags a wet stripe down Hal – Hal blushes furiously. _Interesting_. Robin leans in to press a kiss to the dry side of Hal's cock, looking up at him through the hair falling in his eyes. A small drop of slick beads from the head.

"Well, that's fun," Robin says, rubbing his thumb in the new droplet and again dragging it down. Hal whines and shifts on the sofa, his cheeks burnt red.

"You always like this?" Robin asks - to his surprise, Hal shakes his head and drops it against the back of the sofa.

"It's not - o-only when I'm - " Hal's panting breaks off into an almost inaudible whine that makes the hair on the back of Robin's neck stand up. "Fuck, when I'm close." 

_Oh_. Arousal rockets so swiftly through Robin he almost loses his balance somehow.

"Please," Hal says softly, lifting his head back up to look at Robin.

"Fuck," Robin whispers. But he nods. And slides the condom between his lips and teeth.

"Oh god, you're gonna kill me," Hal pants, and watches, rapt, as Robin sinks down on him in one smooth move, rolling on the condom with his mouth. Robin winks when he pulls up, flashing Hal a smirk as he wipes stray spit off his lower lip. Hal twitches in his grip.

"Seriously, I'm gonna come," Hal says, licking his lips. "And I really wanna - oh, _fuck_ \- "

Robin hums around the head. One of Hal's hands threads gently into his hair, pushing it back from his face, and Robin takes it as his cue to keep going, sinking down a little and pulling back up to... _reacquaint_ himself with this. It comes easily - and so will Hal, by the sounds of it, panting heavily even though Robin's only just started, and Robin finds it one of the hottest things in the world. He lets spit drip down to slick up the lower part of Hal, stroking in time with the slow bobbing of his head, letting Hal's dick press his tongue flat against the floor of his mouth. Hal doesn't push on his head, just holds, but his hips still buck tellingly - Robin rises easily with their movement, moaning a little to make Hal swear.

He sets a smooth - but fast - pace, closing his eyes as he focuses on sucking on the head and loosening his jaw so Hal can roll his hips up more freely, Robin's name escaping him in a hot whimper. Robin pants through his nose and shoves his other hand down to stroke himself, picking up where Hal left off. He feels Hal's thigh tense under his forearm, feels his fingers clench a little in his hair, hears choppy, cut-off moans. Robin pulls off to lick at the head, tracing the point of his tongue up the underside and over the slit - Hal jumps and _whines_ , louder now, his hips jerking up so clumsily that his cock misses Robin's mouth and skates wetly up his nose - Robin steadies it with his hand and sinks down again, hand matching the pace of his mouth matching the pace of Hal's hips. He can't help the drool that leaks from his tongue, catches it with his thumb to slick up the slide for Hal even more - Robin's own hand speeds up almost subconsciously, Hal's spit helping him with the friction as he grunts around him.

"Robin, Robin, f-fuck, 'm gonna - _ah-h_ ," Hal gasps, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth as his thrusts grow stuttery, desperate, shallowly fucking Robin's mouth. Robin mimics Hal's growl tactic and Hal judders rewardingly, his noises reaching a sharp peak behind his hand as his legs tremble -

" _Fuck_ ," Hal whimpers, and comes with a surprising shiver - Robin lifts up to press the flat of his tongue to the slit and stifles a moan at the sensation of Hal coming through the condom, little spurts pushing against his tongue. He swallows messily, wishing he was tasting more than just his own spit and latex, and keeps bobbing on Hal until Hal urges him off with the hand in his hair, oversensitive.

"Robin - " Hal pants, trying to tug him up, but Robin stays where he is, pressing his forehead to Hal's thigh as he jacks himself off, panting hotly against the little hairs there.

"Wait, wait, _shit_ ," he breathes, suddenly on the knife's edge of close, _too_ close, the simmering buzz of his first orgasm flipped to a sharper sensation as he grinds against his fingers. It only takes a few more strokes for him to come again with a pleasant shiver, huffing against Hal's skin.

"Holy fuck," Hal says. "I would've stayed down there if I knew."

Robin laughs shakily, but just the thought of Hal blowing him sends a tempting thrill through him. If he could come yet again, he would take Hal up on that.

"Next time," he promises, and now he follows Hal's urging, standing on weak legs just to collapse on the sofa beside Hal again, dragged into an insistent kiss.

He hears more than sees Hal take the condom off and tie it, too busy kissing down Hal's neck to pay much attention, and Hal cups his cheek to guide him up for slower, lazier kisses.

It's a few minutes before they part, and when they do, Robin's reluctant. But he does, and opens his eyes to see Hal looking right back at him, eyes flicking between his lips and back. He's almost devastatingly handsome like this, pupils still wide and hair a mess from Robin's fingers. Hal one-handedly tugs his jeans back up for decency. Robin can't resist going back to kiss him again, warm and surprisingly gentle after what they just did, and Robin thinks he could get used to this. The hand on his shoulder is strong, _familiar_ now, urging Robin in closer. His hair falls into his eyes, but this time he's too busy to deal with it.

Hal's pupils are back to a more normal size when they separate again. Robin's lips feel half-numb.

"Do you want to stay over?" Hal asks. "Not - Not _for_ anything, but just to...stay over?"

Robin considers him. It wouldn't be the first time he's stayed over at a stranger's house after sex - although Hal's not quite a stranger, is he? He's something different, something between friend and ally, something between known and unknown.

Maybe that's why Robin says what he does.

"I should probably get back home," he says, glancing at Hal's kitchen clock to check the time. It's barely midnight. No one's expecting him back at the manor.

He misses the way Hal's smile falters.

"Yeah, that's fine," Hal says, and he's smiling fully when Robin looks at him again. "Feel free to use the bathroom or anything before you go. It's through the bedroom."

"I'll take you up on that," Robin says, and kisses the corner of Hal's mouth before going to clean up.

When he returns, Hal's cleaned up any sign of mess in the living room, foil packets disappeared and the bin contents stamped down to make room. Unsure of what else to do, or _say_ , Robin grabs his backpack from the corner.

"We should do this again," Hal says, leaning attractively against the wall looking for all the world like he didn't just trade blowjobs with Robin in his living room. "Thanks for bringing dinner."

"No problem. It was great," Robin agrees, shoving his hair out of his eyes. "I'll text you?"

"I'm shocked you kept my number," Hal jokes. Robin laughs.

"Why wouldn't I?" He says slyly. Hal's ears pinken.

Robin shifts on his feet. "Well, catch you later," he adds as he heads towards the door.

It feels weird, just leaving, but he's not sure what it would mean if he stayed - he doesn't even know Hal's last name, for god's sake. He's not sure what to do with the stranger-not-stranger Green Lantern. Because they could keep this relatively anonymous, keep it superficial, work together, maybe play together a little, but for all Robin knows, this is a burner apartment, or this is a friends' place - but looking around, he notices all the personal touches around the place, the model jets, the film posters, the scratched Xbox.

Green Lantern. Hal No-Last-Name. Anonymous. Superficial.

Robin pauses with his hand on the handle.

"Hey, what's your last name?" He asks, glancing back at Hal.

"Jordan," Hal says. "Yours?"

"Grayson."

"I like it." Hal smiles. "I'll see you around, Grayson."

"Not if I see you first."

Hal's laughter follows him out the door. Robin smiles to himself.

_Hal Jordan._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an original character introduced in this chapter, so just wanted to clarify - Darren is non-binary and uses they/he, which are used interchangeably for them by all characters who know!

The suspects for the jewellery store are found dead in their cells. Tiffany's supplier trace ended in a building fire. SWAT stopped that one truck of GCPD gear, but who knows if they have more. The stolen jewellery still hasn't shown up. Everything's gone silent. 

Robin and Tiffany are back to square one. 

"They're covering their tracks," Robin says uselessly, loading up footage from Tiffany's drone of the supplier fire. 

"And they must have smuggled the jewellery out of Gotham," Tiffany adds, trawling through known fences. No signature stamps. "How else did they get the money for the uniforms? The production?" 

Robin sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose over his mask. 

"I don't know," he says. Tiffany secures jetpack straps across her chest. 

"Let's at least take a look," she says, but she sounds as defeated as Robin feels. Robin nods and follows her to the vehicle bay - a generous term for one car and two bikes - and follows her out of the Batcave on two wheels. 

The supplier site is nothing more than rubble now. Tiffany dismounts and sends up a small drone to scan through taller wreckage while Robin switches on the evidence scanner in his mask to look through the ground debris. 

"I'll take right, you take left?" Tiffany asks. 

"Sounds good." Robin ducks under crime scene tape and starts his search, kicking a chunk of drywall out of the way. A cloud of ashes puffs up in his face. 

The firefighters didn't find anything, and the building was thankfully empty at the time, but it doesn't really hurt to check. Even though most of the GCPD has the same scanner tech now. But it's not like they have any leads. Tiffany's drone whizzes and beeps above him, racing between still-standing metal pillars and foundations. His mask reveals old footprints and electrical wires, older stains and broken vents. 

His thoughts drift while he walks through - first to the toxin, trying to piece together a puzzle he doesn't have the picture for. Expensive jewellery, stolen and presumably sold off so they could afford to bulk-buy the vials and manufacture...whatever the toxin is. But it's not brewed in Gotham; GCPD already inspected Ace head-to-toe. It's a convenient toxin - most likely used for coercion and then slowly kills the person anyway, but leaves the bloodstream long before then. And the fact that someone's gone to major trouble to cover their tracks, first with sending those gunmen after Robin and Hal, and next with burning down the supplier building that Tiffany found. 

Robin has to assume they have the resources to replace most of it, so he has to assume there's still fake GCPD gear in the wrong hands somewhere, and there's multiple distribution warehouses, because the building he's currently pawing through certainly wasn't a secret chem lab. From all reports and wreckage, it was just a storage building. 

So they - whoever _they_ are - are planning to attack...who? The GCPD? Gotham? To what extent are they planning to use the gear - just to sneak into the GCPD or to pretend to be police to the wider public? 

"I've got a few fingerprints from the surviving doorframes," Tiffany says in his ear. "No idea how old they are, though." 

"Good catch," Robin says. He crouches down to look at a section of wall - the scanner gives nothing. "I've got nothing yet." 

"I'll keep looking." 

And back to amicable silence. Robin's mind wanders again, but this time to Hal. Hal _Jordan_. He doesn't quite know what to make of him. Test pilot, Green Lantern - and the funny way Robin always manages to run into him. He's been chalking it up to Hal also following the local crimes, but he wonders idly if Hal's been...looking out for him. Flying over the city and finding a hotspot and swooping in hoping he'll run into him. 

Okay, now that's just wishful thinking. But Robin can't say he doesn't _like_ talking to Hal. Well, and more than talking. They haven't actually spoken about anything - haven't actually _seen_ each other since Robin went over for dinner a few days ago. But they've been texting pretty much every night, and Robin's come to look forward to his evenings, when he can settle down with a game and ask Hal how his day was. 

Robin's mask focuses in on movement, and he stops to examine it. Something flutters in the wind, pinned under a scorched wooden pillar. Robin easily lifts it up to grab the fluttering thing with his other hand - a piece of cloth. He can make out a faded _CPD_ on it in familiar font. He quickly analyses the fabric. 

"I found part of a fake uniform," Robin says. "The fabric isn't standard issue." 

"They're definitely planning to infiltrate the GCPD," Tiffany replies. Robin sees her nodding across the flat wreckage. 

"What do we do?" 

Tiffany shrugs at him. 

"Jim already knows," she says. "This isn't anything new, but we can show him this anyway." 

"How'd your fingerprints do?" 

"Nothing relevant. A couple janitors belonging to cleaning agencies." 

"Damn." 

\-- 

"Go!" The timer beeps and Robin pushes off of the edge of the boat the same time as the other volunteers, diving smoothly into the ocean and kicking down to the floor. 

They've got five minutes to find five hidden black boxes - fake ones, but the same shape and size, and tucked into nooks and crannies of the rocks under the promontory by the instructors. It's a teambuilding as well as physical exercise, with each of them carrying a single piece of equipment that they chose in the boat while sailing out here. Robin has a sturdy rope wrapped around his leg; Jason, a thin climbing axe for the rocks; Tim deliberated and eventually settled on a tactical knife; Steph is packing marker flags in her suit, thinking ahead as always; Duke with a set of chains, and Cass with a waterproof flashlight attached to her hip. Unusual equipment to offer them, among some other things they've left behind on the boat, but the point is to _challenge_ them. They'll have to work together to get the boxes, and work against having to surface for air every forty seconds. 

Really, it's a good thing Robin is so familiar with challenges, now. Being Nightwing sort of takes the sting out of the apprehension - not that he ever had much anyway. He's always liked diving in headfirst; into hobbies, into work, into relationships, and now into vigilante work. It keeps things lively. 

Steph spots the first box and stabs a flag into the rock it's trapped under, buried halfway in the sand underneath it. Jason waves them over from Robin's right and gestures to a hidden little cave at the base of the promontory. He uses a quick series of military signals to convey his scouting plan, and Robin replies in sign language to say he needs to go up for air. Jason and Steph nod. 

Robin twists in the water to look over at Tim, Cass, and Duke, who have floated farther away from their little group - he waves to catch their attention, and they communicate in quick, watery sign. 

_We'll check the other side,_ Tim replies, fingers trailing on his words. 

_Regroup in two minutes_ , Cass adds. She signs sharper, neater. Robin, Steph, and Jason nod before swimming up to the surface. The other three disappear around the front of the promontory. 

Ten blissfully oxygenated seconds later, they dive down with purpose towards the cave opening. It's not a big one - barely big enough for one of them to fit in there, and it's not really a cave, they discover, more of a little hollow, with a soft, sandy bottom. Jason shovels sand up with the edge of his pickaxe, and sure enough, hits metal before long. They share a quick look and then Robin and Steph crowd in to help dig it out in the remaining twenty seconds of oxygen they have left. 

It's been a couple weeks since the trail went cold on the toxin case. Tiffany and Robin have filled it with GCPD paperwork and Bruce busywork - by which they mean actually making progress on redesigning and updating Bruce's old Batman gear, from the suit to the car, and brainstorming for some of the forgotten ideas tucked away in a notes folder on the Batcomputer, marked down in a mix of Bruce's attention to detail and Alfred's distinct organisation of the lists of materials and uses. 

And, well, the early morning ocean and the case trail may be cold, but there's definitely other things heating up for Robin. In a more personal way. Dinner at Hal's has started becoming a regular occurrence, for one, even if it _is_ just a pretence for them to fast forward their nights into the bed. And sometimes not even the bed, if they start early. 

It's nice, actually, the no-strings-attached. They'd had the conversation at around the fourth time - or, more accurately, _after_ the fourth time, lying on the floor and giggling at themselves for being too impatient to even make it to the _sofa_. Neither of them were seeing anyone else, they figured out, and they both wanted to be friends, but they both really liked the sex, and, well, it kind of...went from there. Friends with benefits. Exclusive fuck buddies, crudely. 

Somewhere after the fifth time, which came immediately after that conversation, they made a tired but smart agreement to at least notify the other if someone started getting physical with anyone else, purely from a safety perspective. Hygiene. 

And then sometime between the seventh and eighth time they'd graduated from condoms and dental dams to bare skin, which really just ups the ante for both of them, if Robin's honest - sometimes they don't even make it to dinner before there's hands in interesting places. After that, Robin loses count of any times between them, the dinners only marked by takeout receipts and stacked pots in the sink. 

So yeah. It's been a pleasant couple of weeks. Robin tucks the black box under his arm and pushes off of the rock to follow Jason and Steph up to the surface again. 

"We'll go to the other marker," Jason says, and Robin gives him a thumbs up before paddling back to the boat to drop off the box. Keith takes it easily from his hands and Robin pushes off of the boat to swim back out to the rocks. 

Steph signs something at him one-handed, but he understands enough of the half-gestures to suck in a breath and unwind the rope from his leg, kicking closer to Jason to hand him the other end. Jason stays where he is and Robin circles the rock to the other side, twisting the rope around his wrist and pulling it taut around the boulder with Jason. Jason lifts his fingers up in a countdown. Steph kicks up for air and sinks back down a moment later. 

On three, they kick off of the seabed and pull hard on the ropes - Robin grunts, and a couple air bubbles spill from the corner of his mouth. Jason tugs his arms in sharply, and Robin mirrors it, and with another strong push, they manage to shift the rock enough to budge it over from the black box. Steph dives down to dig it out; the rope goes slack as Jason shoots up for air, and Robin winds the rope around his leg again as quickly as he can underwater before joining Jason. 

"C'mon, let's go help the others," Robin says. Jason treads water for a moment while he catches his breath, slicking hair out of his eyes to nod. 

"Steph, meet us on the other side!" He calls; Steph gives a thumbs up over her shoulder before paddling towards the boat with the box, and Robin and Jason head around the tip of the promontory to reach the others. 

They seem to have done well, so far. Tim's cradling a black box in his arms and treading water by the rock wall while Duke and Cass blurrily poke around at something underwater. If Robin squints he can see the hazy beam of Cass's flashlight down there, too. 

"Hey, Timbo, gimme the box," Jason says, pulling up to Tim and gesturing at the box. 

"I hate that I can't make anything out of your name," Tim replies, handing the box over. 

"Aw, don't worry, I'm sure you'll think of something, squirt," Jason teases, and spares a hand to ruffle Tim's wet hair. 

"I'm not _squirt_ ," Tim protests. He's grinning, though, a laugh bubbling out of him as he bats Jason's hand away. "I'm in _college_." 

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm sure Sigma Phi whatever is so proud of you." Jason braces himself on the rock and pushes off from it, giving both of them a two-fingered salute before turning to swim back around to the boat. 

"I'm not even in a fraternity," Tim mutters. Robin raises an eyebrow. 

"So the Sigma Phi Beta shirt in the locker room isn't yours?" 

"Look - " Tim holds up a finger and sighs. "It's technically not. It's my boyfriend's." 

"How cute, you're already sharing clothes," Robin teases, and glances down at the pair underwater. 

"You're a comedian, truly," Tim says dryly. He also looks down at Duke and Cass. "We should help them." 

"Probably." Robin glances around them. "What's the plan?" 

"I'll take their box back," Tim says. He points to farther down the outcropping, closer to land. "There's another one lodged under debris over there. It's under the shipwreck; Cass can show you where." 

"Sounds like a plan," Robin agrees, and sucks in a breath to dive underwater. 

He waves to Duke and Cass on his way by - Cass triumphantly tugs a box out of a hidden little hole and starts swimming up to pass it off to Tim while Duke turns around to follow Robin to the next box. 

_Tim said it was under debris_ , Robin signs. 

_that's one word for it_ , Duke agrees, his fingers stretching wide on the words. 

They surface for air while Cass catches up to them, swimming closer to the spot that Duke now leads _him_ to, underneath a deceptively calm blue stretch of water. 

_under here_ , Cass signs, and sinks underneath the water. Robin and Duke follow her. 

And wow, Tim was _not_ kidding about debris. It's not technically a shipwreck - not nearly deep enough for that, and not a ship - but there's a couple busted up rowing boats sunk to the bottom here, with coral reef growing over their remains. A few fish dart in and out of ragged holes in wooden planks, and bright, colourful creatures wind their way around the broken oars, the wood spongy with algae. 

_over here_ , Cass tells them, clicking on her little flashlight to point at a section of boat a little away from the reef. It's only half of one of the rowing boats, but it's relatively disturbed over here, too far away to support the little ecosystem. Not that Robin has any lofty ideals about _lifting_ the thing; it's all thick, water-logged planks and a heavy, once-decorative bow sunk partway into sand. 

Robin starts untying the rope around his leg and loops it around his hand, watching Duke do the same with his chains. 

_if we pull_ , Robin says, gesturing to Cass and himself, signing one-handed and clumsy, _then can you get the box, Duke?_

Duke shrugs and nods. _I can try_. 

Duke hands the chain to Cass, who dives down with Robin to start looping it around the debris, careful to avoid laying it over split planks and cracking woods - Cass pushes experimentally on sections of the boat to test the strength, and nods when Robin hands her his rope to start tying it around as well. Together, they shove rope and chain underneath the front of the boat, where jagged edges rise to threaten them, and test the give with a couple weak pulls. Duke hovers nearby, watching them adjust the tension in the lines. 

When everything's set up, they all surface in silent agreement, shaking water out of their eyes. Duke squints into the distance, at the tip of the promontory, and Robin glances over to see Tim waving at them, Jason bobbing beside him. With the glare of the sun, he can't make out what they're signing. 

_speak up_ , Cass signs to them, big and unmissable. Jason cups his hands around his mouth and shouts across the water. 

"We found the last box!" 

Robin, Duke, and Cass give him a thumbs-up before both groups dive below the water once again. This time, Robin doesn't need the guiding light of Cass's flashlight to find the boat, and he and Cass settle on the ocean floor either side of it. 

_we'll tilt it, you grab it_ , Cass says to Duke, who comes to a careful stop a foot away from the splintered edge of broken wood. Robin can see a corner of the black box peeking out from underneath it. 

Robin and Cass grab the chain and rope, winding them around their palms for a stronger grip while Duke floats a little closer in preparation. With his free hand, Robin does a countdown, and on _go_ , he grabs the chain and heaves with Cass. 

Oh god, it's _heavy_. It's heavy and waterlogged and creaking under the strain even as they tilt it just a few degrees - still not enough, though, for Duke to dart in. He drifts closer as the jagged edges tilt up, missing his face by careful inches. The chains and rope bite into Robin's palms - he glances over to see Cass straining against them, her face twisted up in determination even as her foot skids against the sandy floor. The other presses to a rock, like Robin's, but his shifts forward with the push, not nearly as anchored as he hopes and the boat is creaking louder, resisting the chains, and it's _still_ not tilted enough - 

Planks snap against the rope with loud _cracks_ , the new debris floating off into the water as Duke flinches and holds up an arm over his face to protect it. The need for oxygen starts to press at Robin's throat, the urge to open his mouth and swallow almost overwhelming but he trades a look with Cass and when she nods, he pulls as hard as he can, the boat tilting up farther, the rock under his foot slipping, slipping, _gone_ \- 

Duke windmills back from the boat as it crashes down again, the black box dropping beside him. Robin loses his balance and spends a second face-up sideways in the water before reorienting himself and putting his feet to sand once more. Opposite him, Cass looks similarly weary. The chain and rope lay slack over the ruined boat, splinters of wood and algae drifting by where the chain and rope ripped straight through the soft, weakened planks. 

Robin helps Cass pull the chain and rope free, but his lungs are burning now with the lack of air, his nose stings with salt water, and he barely lasts long enough to gather up the rope before kicking off to the surface, Cass and Duke hot on his heels. 

"Holy _shit_ ," Duke gasps, clutching the black box to his chest with one arm. 

"That's one word for it," Robin agrees, slicking hair out of his eyes _again_. 

_Oops_ ," Cass adds, smiling unapologetically. Robin laughs and wraps both the chain and rope around his leg. It'll weigh him down, but not much. 

They bicker playfully on their swim back, turning around the tip of the promontory to see Jason and Tim already handing their black box off to Keith and clambering into the boat. 

"Thirty seconds!" Keith's voice booms across the water, his laughter not far behind, and Duke flips him off as the trio paddle harder to get there faster, rushing Duke up to hand the box off while Cass climbs over the edge. 

"Thought you were about to cost us there," Jason teases, holding out an arm for Robin to grab onto to haul himself up. 

"Yeah, fuck you too," he pants, staggering forward to collapse on one of the benches. Duke slumps down between him and Tim, running his hands through his hair to press out the water in it. 

"You did a good job out there today," Keith praises, signalling to the captain to start up the motor as Steph grabs water from the cooler and passes it around. "I saw a lot of good teamwork out there. That's the key - " 

" - to being a Coast Guard," they all drone in unison, giggling at Keith's exasperated sigh. 

"C'mon, at least let me have the _moment_ ," he says, and the boat explodes in laughter. 

\-- 

"I can step up security around the precinct, but we already have badge checks. No leads on who or when?" 

"No. Sorry. We're trying to track down the vials, but we know they're definitely armed. With more than standard-issue weapons." 

"We'll keep an eye out." 

"I thought we said no business at the dinner table," Bruce says, looking between the three of them. 

"Sorry," Robin says unapologetically, grinning. 

"There's not much else going on," Tiffany agrees. Bruce huffs out a laugh. 

"All right then, big shot, what have you been doing?" Jim asks, leaning on an elbow to face Bruce. Robin and Tiffany exchange a mirthful glance. 

" _Actually_ ," Bruce starts, stabbing his fork at Jim, "I've been busy finalising the last renovations on Twin Trees." 

"Boring," Robin declares. 

"Tiffany's allowed to go home after this," Bruce warns playfully. Tiffany twirls spaghetti on her fork and grins smugly. Robin narrows his eyes at her. 

" _Home_ , sure," he says. "Or she could go to _Darren's_." 

"Hey!" 

"Who's Darren?" Jim asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

"The barista at Jukebox," Robin says. "Tiffany and Darren, K-I-S-S-I-N-G - " 

"Oh, like you haven't been sneaking out of the manor to see your new boyfriend," she retorts, but she's giggling. 

Bruce chokes on his water. "Boyfriend?" 

"He's not my boyfriend!" Robin protests. 

"Uh-huh," Tiffany hums, calmly piercing a single meatball, a smile tugging at her mouth. Robin can't help his own in response, even though he's glaring at her. 

"Hiring you was a mistake," Bruce laments. Both of them turn to him. 

"Bruce, you remember they have your old arsenal down there?" Jim reminds him, chuckling. Bruce steals spaghetti off his plate in response. Robin and Tiffany turn back to each other. 

"So are you seeing Darren?" he asks her. She blushes a little and shrugs one shoulder. 

"Maybe," she allows. 

"Can I meet them?" 

"Only if I can meet your boyfriend-not-boyfriend," she teases. _Outside of work_ is implied. Robin appreciates her not saying his name - he still hasn't told Bruce about Hal, and especially not about his...more _professional_ involvement with Robin and Tiffany as well. 

"Bring them over for dinner sometime," Jim says easily. "Both of you." 

"Humiliating," Robin says dryly. "I'll pass." 

"Same," Tiffany adds, and pushes her empty plate into the middle. "Now, as Bruce pointed out earlier, I get to leave. I have a date to get ready for. Thanks for dinner." 

"No problem," Jim says, waving her off as they shout goodbyes after her. 

The rest of them finish dinner shortly after, stacking the plates in the middle and arguing briefly over who should do the dishes since the dishwasher broke last week and Bruce _still_ hasn't called a repairman over. It's a useless argument, because it's Robin's turn anyway, but he tries valiantly to offload it onto Bruce - Jim's exempt since he cooked. It doesn't work, and Robin's left standing at the sink waiting for it to fill up while Bruce and Jim wipe the table down. He texts Hal while the water rises, careful to keep his face straight until the other two leave. 

When they disappear back upstairs, Robin fishes out earbuds from his pockets and connects them wirelessly to his phone, shoving it into his pockets and pulling on the gloves. 

"Hey," Hal says. He sounds like he's smiling. 

"Hola," Robin replies. "What are you up to?" 

"Literally fucking nothing. I found a documentary on sex robots." 

"And?" 

"It's shit." 

Robin laughs and squeezes out the sponge over a plate. 

"So I was thinking," Hal says - 

"Dangerous," Robin teases. 

"Fuck you. Anyway, I found a big empty field the other day." 

Robin frowns. "A field?" 

"How fast does your bike go?" 

"Stupidly fast." 

"You wanna try stunts?" 

The laugh that tumbles out of Robin is louder this time. " _Stunts_?" 

"Yeah, like in the movies. I can make the ramps." 

"If I break my arm I'm suing you." 

"Aw," Hal pouts. "If I break your ass will you hold it against me?" 

"That was fucking _awful_." 

Hal giggles on the other end. 

"But if you play your cards right, I might," Robin allows. He stacks another plate onto the drying rack with a loud clang. 

"What are you even doing?" 

"Dishes. I'm a man of many talents." 

"I'd certainly say so," Hal says in a deliberately dramatic purr - it sounds _ridiculous_ , and makes them both crack up loudly. Cutlery clinks into its holder and Robin drags over one of the saucepans to scrub it out - damn Jim and his obsession with homemade sauces. They're _good_ , but they always leave shit burnt into the bottom. 

"So, you angling for something with this field?" Robin asks, and finds himself holding his breath for the answer. Fabric rustles on Hal's end. 

"I don't know what you mean," Hal says innocently. 

"Do you want me to wear the suit?" By the sound of Hal's inhale, Robin's hit a nail on the head. 

"I will if you will," Hal replies, and heat crawls up Robin's spine at the thought. 

"When were you thinking?" He asks. Ignores how his voice drops a half-pitch. 

Movement draws his gaze. Robin blanches as Bruce freezes in the doorway, Jim's cane in his hand. 

"He, uh, he forgot his cane," Bruce says. 

"Robin?" Hal asks. 

"Hold on," Robin says to him, looking at Bruce. "How long have you been down here?" 

Bruce shrugs. "A few seconds." He smiles. "Is that your not-boyfriend?" 

"I'll kill you," Robin threatens. Bruce playfully holds up his hands. 

"Ooh, hot," Hal murmurs. 

"I wasn't talking to you," Robin mutters back. 

"Still hot." 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Robin," Bruce says politely, and backs out of the kitchen to walk away. 

"Who was that?" Hal asks. 

"Roommate," Robin deadpans. He places the last saucepan on the rack. "When were you thinking of doing this field thing?" 

"Tonight? I'm free." 

"Tonight works." It's Friday night, the start of a weekend off. Robin snaps off the gloves and leaves them hanging over the edge of the sink. "Want me to pick you up?" 

"That works," Hal says, and hangs up. 

Robin heads upstairs to pack his bag - knowing Hal, and knowing the turn the night might just take, well, it pays to put a change of clothes in. He might even stay over this time. 

On his way downstairs to the Batcave entrance, he runs into Bruce, standing casually against one of the stately and ridiculous columns in the lobby. Robin tenses involuntarily. 

"You sneaking out?" Bruce teases. 

"Not anymore," Robin replies with a grin. Bruce hums. Robin raises an eyebrow. 

"What is it, Bruce?" 

"I heard you mention your suit," Bruce says, levelling him with a serious look. "So he knows, doesn't he?" 

Robin tucks his thumb under his backpack strap. "Yeah. He knows." 

But he understands why Bruce needs to ask, needs to make sure his entire secret won't just topple because of Robin's new mystery friend. But he doesn't say any of the things Robin expects - _who is he? Can we trust him? Will he tell? How much does he know?_

"Okay." Bruce nods. "Have a fun night, then." 

"You're not going to interrogate me? I thought Batman was strict," Robin jokes. Bruce laughs quietly. 

"I'm not Batman anymore," he says. "It's up to Tiffany and you now. And hell, there were plenty of people who knew who I was. So if you both trust you're doing the right thing, then I trust you." 

"Thank you," Robin says. Bruce waves him off and starts walking to the stairs. 

Without further ado, Robin heads down to the Batcave and to his locker to change into his suit and race off towards Hal's building. 

\-- 

Hal wolf-whistles when Robin pulls up, raking his eyes appreciatively over Robin and the bike. 

"C'mon, I'm in my suit," Robin says, jerking his chin to Hal's plainclothes. "Only fair for you to suit up too." 

"Oh, all right then," Hal says, forcibly casual. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his - ring? Robin frowns. Hal winks and slides the ring on, and a suit forms on him, spreading up from his hand to cover his whole body, finishing with the boots and mask. 

"Holy fuck," Robin breathes. Hal swings a backpack over his shoulders and climbs on behind Robin, forming a green helmet over his face. Robin runs a distracted hand over Hal's arm - it _feels_ like Kevlar, it acts normal when Robin tugs on it, but Hal never put it _on_. 

"It acts normal while I have the ring on," Hal explains, flexing his fingers. "Just like clothing. I can take it off and everything. But it disappears with the ring." 

"I wish mine was that easy," Robin admits. "So what's in the bag?" 

"The lantern, mostly." Hal shrugs. He leans forward and slides his hands around Robin to rest on his hips. "So, _Nightwing_ , how fast does this thing go?" 

Robin smirks, glancing back at Hal. 

"Hold on," he says, and revs the engine. Hal grips him tighter and nods, and Robin peels away from the curb. 

Robin enjoys the growl of the engine between his legs, the jump of the handlebars in his palms, the skid of tyres against asphalt. The bike itself is no small thing - it's wider than standard, with matte black armour plating that goes as far as halfway down the wheels, covering part of them so they're harder to hit in a chase. It's got all the usual hidden gadgets and lights in sneaky panels all over the body, in true Tiffany style, but the blue bird on the front is Robin's touch. The wings become a bright blue stripe along each side of the bike that matches his suit - Tiffany's bike has purple detailing on the edges and sides of panels to pair with her suit. 

Hal politely doesn't try to tease Robin while he's driving, but the constant pressure of his hands on Robin's hips doesn't do him many favours. Neither does the weight of Hal against his back - faint but definitely _there_ , the chin of his helmet brushing against Robin's shoulder. If they had earpieces, Robin is sure Hal would be taking full advantage of the moment. 

The streets grow emptier the farther out of city centre they get, four-way intersections exchanged for long stretches of tarmac, street crossings swapped out for industrial warehouses. Something green pops up above Robin's right rearview mirror. An arrow pointing right. Robin obeys, and slows down as Hal gives him more directions, guiding him to the field he mentioned earlier. Robin pulls into the field - big, and definitely empty - and stops somewhere in the middle, nudging his kickstand down. 

"Okay, that was fast," Hal says. Robin tugs his helmet off and laughs, shaking his hair out of his eyes. 

"You like the bike?" 

"I like the bike," Hal answers, and now he squeezes Robin's hips. "But I like the man on it more." 

"I thought we came here to do stupid stunts," Robin says. Hal's helmet disappears and he rests his chin on Robin's shoulder, his lips temptingly close to Robin's when Robin turns to look at him. 

"You're getting dangerously close there, Grayson," he teases. His lips brush Robin's. 

"How dangerous?" 

Robin smirks against Hal's lips. 

"You'll be limping home dangerous," he breathes. Hal squeezes his hips again. 

"Don't threaten me with a good time," he jokes, and closes the scant space between them for a couple seconds. Robin hooks his helmet on a handlebar without looking and reaches back to slide a hand into Hal's hair. He twists a little. Hal trips on his next inhale. 

"Fuck," he whispers, and Robin muffles his next stuttered sound. Hal's hands creep down to Robin's thighs. 

"Skip the stunts?" Robin pants, and Hal nods, chasing him for another slow, heated kiss before allowing Robin to climb off. 

But Robin doesn't go far, just turns around and stops Hal from standing up fully, crowding between his legs. Hal shrugs off his backpack and drops it by the back wheel, running a hand up Robin's armoured back as Robin tilts his head to kiss him again, one hand fitted neatly under Hal's jaw. Hal's other hand lands on Robin's ass, squeezing deliberately. Robin laughs quietly. The bike rocks a little underneath them. 

"You're gonna tip the bike," Hal murmurs, dropping one hand to hold onto the seat. Robin hums noncommittally and kisses down Hal's neck as he reaches out to his right to press a button on the dash - rods shoot out of the other side of the bike and anchor themselves into the ground with a sharp _thwack!_

Hal startles a little, glancing behind him to see the metal poles now supporting the bike, keeping it upright. A trick Tiffany built in so Robin could use his bike as cover in a fight, but it has its other uses. 

"Huh," Hal pants. "You always come prepared to fuck someone on this thing?" 

Robin shivers at the filthiness of that. 

"Just you," he promises, scraping his teeth over Hal's jugular. He pauses. "Do you want to be?" 

"I didn't take a second shower to _not_ ," Hal laughs breathlessly, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Robin's neck. "Fuck, please _do_ , Robin." 

Robin has to close his eyes at the rush of heat that shoots through him at the implication of Hal's words. Hal pants quietly against his ear. 

Without another word, Robin removes his armoured gloves, unstrapping and disconnecting them from the gauntlets to drop them carelessly on the ground. Finally, _finally_ , he puts his hands on Hal, curling tight fingers in his hair and sliding an arm around his waist. He hears Hal discard a glove behind his back, hears it thump to the ground and he doesn't feel any textural difference through his suit but Hal immediately becomes more _insistent_ , one hand cupping his ass and the other digging into the Kevlar lining under the panel over his shoulder blade. It keeps him close, not that Robin would want to go _anywhere_ with Hal under him like this, his pulse thundering hot against Robin's lips. 

"Want me to keep the mask on?" He asks, mostly to tease. Hal moans softly and turns to kiss him. 

"You're worse than I imagined," he mutters. 

"You thought about this?" 

"You didn't?" 

The retort catches Robin off-guard, his breath hitching tellingly as Hal kisses his jaw. 

"Yeah," he admits. "Yeah I did. Fuck, Hal." 

"That's what I'm going for." A hand hooks in the front of Robin's belt. "Hurry up, Grayson." 

"You're so fucking impatient." Nevertheless, Robin digs his fingers under the armour panels around Hal's waist, searching for a zipper or a latch - he finds one over Hal's hip and pries the panel off to find the overlap of fabric. He unhooks the top part from the panel underneath, exploiting the new access to slip fingers in over Hal's waist. 

Once he figures out the catches, he makes quick work of Hal's suit, freeing up the split between Kevlar linings to shove his hands down Hal's front - he's wearing _underwear_ under all that as well, the waistband rubbing rough against Robin's wrist as he palms Hal. Hal groans into his mouth, similarly trying to undo Robin's suit, but he's clumsier, _distracted_ , and gives up soon after Robin _squeezes_. 

" _So_ not fair," Hal pants, but clutches at Robin's back anyway, forehead pressed to his shoulder as he shudders. " _Shit_." Robin loves how responsive he is. 

Robin reaches down to undo his own suit, unlatching the panel over his crotch and peeling down the Kevlar lining enough to reveal his briefs. Hal doesn't waste his time tugging Robin's hips closer and sliding a hand over his briefs, pushing his knuckles up in a filthy grind that makes Robin's legs weak. 

"Did you bring anything?" Hal asks, lifting his head to puff out hot little breaths across Robin's cheeks. One of Robin's hands lands on the motorbike seat and curls harshly around the leather, his hips jerking forward at Hal's rough touch. 

"You didn't?" He teases breathlessly, trying to get Hal back with another slow squeeze. Hal moans. 

"Your bag is closer," he spits. Robin's nails dig into the seat cushion with Hal's next grind. 

"Then turn around," Robin tells him, voice rough. Hal _whimpers_. 

Robin helps Hal slide off the bike and turn around before popping open his bike compartment to fish through his backpack. Hal glances back from where he's resting his forearms on the bike seat, raising an eyebrow and playfully shaking his ass to make Robin laugh. It's only a little undercut by how _hot_ Hal looks bent over Robin's bike, and the slow grin on his lips shows that he knows it. 

"Tease," Robin accuses, gently slapping Hal's ass. He tugs out a bottle of lube and a condom, placing them deliberately on the flat part of the seat beside Hal's elbow. 

"Is it working?" 

"Definitely." Robin pulls another thing out of his backpack and grins at Hal's little gasp. Before he does anything else, Robin fiddles with his briefs to push the dildo in through the hole in the front of them, securing it in place while Hal watches. It's a realistic colour and shape, but a little smoother than it strictly should be - one of Robin's favourites, personally, because of how natural it looks. 

"Fuck," Hal mumbles, tearing his eyes from Robin's cock to look up at him. Robin leans over to kiss him, slotting their hips neatly together and grinding forward in a move that makes Hal shiver. Robin knows he can feel _that_ pressure through the armour. 

Before he can get too carried away, Robin gets his hands on Hal's hips again, pushing down the trouser part of the Kevlar suit to expose Hal's underwear - and then he grinds against that as well, moans quietly against Hal's neck at Hal's breathy reaction. He hooks his fingers in Hal's waistband and pauses. 

"You sure?" He asks, rolls his hips forwards to put a point on his question. 

"Again, _second shower_ , Grayson," Hal replies, voice tight. " _Please_." 

"Jesus," Robin whispers, dropping his forehead between Hal's shoulder blades. "Jesus, okay." He urges Hal's underwear off and wraps a bold hand around his dick, stroking from base to tip in a slow move - and finds a pleasant, _wet_ surprise for him at the tip. 

"It's not just when you're close, is it?" He asks. Hal whines quietly. Robin touches his thumb to the slick. 

"No," he admits. "It's - _mm_ \- it's when I'm - fuck, this is embarrassing - it's when I'm really - y'know." 

"Worked up?" Robin says, drops his voice to a ragged pitch. Hal grunts underneath him. 

"Yeah. You fuckin' happy?" But the playful anger in his voice is turned shaky by Robin's hand. 

"Delighted," Robin replies, sounding ten times more casual than he feels. _He's_ doing that to Hal. His blood pumps _violently_ south, and he's not sure he's ever been harder in his entire fucking life. 

Then he runs his other hand around to Hal's ass and presses his thumb to his hole, and Hal twitches against his palm, and nope, _now's_ the hardest he's ever been. Before he can get distracted by all of Hal's little responses, he reaches for the lube and slicks up his fingers, carefully placing the bottle down again before putting his hands back where they were. Hal pants openly as Robin rubs small circles around his hole, trying to both warm up the lube a bit and ease Hal into more. The white-lit eyeholes in his mask close with a moan, shoulders and back tensed as he rocks between Robin's hands. 

"Don't stain my paint job," Robin teases, swiping his fingers over the sticky head of Hal's cock. 

"No promises," Hal pants, peeking one eye open to look back at him, and the sight hits Robin like a punch to the chest - Hal splayed bent over his bike, mouth open, cheeks flushed even under the mask, eyebrows creased in the middle. 

"God," Robin murmurs under his breath. He can't help the way his hips stutter forwards, rubbing his dick against Hal's ass. 

It only takes a few more moments for Hal's hips to get more insistent, a shudder rippling up his spine when Robin eases the tip of his thumb _in_ , rolling in minuscule circles while Hal groans and pants. Robin squeezes his cock and Hal tenses abruptly around his thumb, spitting out curses, so Robin takes his hand away to plant it on Hal's back instead, pinning him loosely in place as his thumb slides in all the way. 

" _Fuck_ ," Hal moans raggedly, dropping his forehead to his crossed wrists. His hips shove back towards Robin, desperate, and the move makes the lube bottle fall off the seat. 

"Shit," Robin says, looking at it. Hal lifts one of his hands under his head just enough to aim the ring - a green robot hand tries to form above the lube but fizzles out in staticky jumps. Hal tries again, but the next construct just crumbles and he drops his hand with a groan. 

"No will?" Robin jokes. Hal chuckles. 

"Can't fucking _think_ ," he laughs. "Can't focus." It dissolves into a moan when Robin pulls his thumb out to bend down and pick up the bottle - but he pauses while he's down there, laughing softly to himself before leaning in to brush his lips over one of Hal's cheeks. Hal jumps. 

" _Jesus_ ," he pants. "Warn a guy, would you?" 

Robin just laughs again, more of a rumble in his throat than anything else, and plants a few more kisses before rising up. 

He pours some more lube on his two main fingers before putting the bottle down again, and doesn't leave Hal hanging for much longer afterwards. Hal moans unabashedly at the finger Robin slides in to replace his thumb, slowly working Hal open again - well, not so slowly anymore, with the way Hal's pushing back against him, setting the pace for himself, and Robin gladly obliges, only pausing to introduce a second finger, and then a third, minutes later, while Hal gasps his name and shivers. Robin thrusts his fingers in and presses _down_ \- Hal whimpers loudly. 

"Please," he begs, knuckles white where he's gripping the seat. " _Please_ , 'm ready, _fuck_ \- " 

Robin presses again just to make Hal tense up all over and _whimper_ again, thighs trembling just a little either side of Robin's. But he doesn't want wait too much longer, either, his knees weak with the heat pooling at the base of his spine, making his dick throb against his underwear. _Fuck_. 

"Yeah, yeah," Robin murmurs, withdrawing his fingers to grab the condom and clumsily rip it open. He discards the packet for now and rolls it on with slippery fingers, careful to keep his other hand dry as he slicks himself up and shuffles forwards. He rests the tip against Hal's hole, rubs against it in a lazy grind that makes both of them moan - Hal at the feel and Robin at the sight. With his dry hand on Hal's hip to steady him, Robin thumbs the head down and gently pushes in, stopping every few seconds to let Hal adjust and shift, his breath coming faster the longer Robin takes. 

Robin feels hot and shivery all over when he's all the way in, resting his other hand gently on Hal's lower back as his hips press to ass. Hal swallows audibly. 

"You good?" Robin asks, mouth dry. 

"Give me a second," Hal murmurs, voice thick. Robin nods, traces his fingers down Hal's spine and reaches around to tap annoyingly up his cock - Hal laughs shakily. It melts into a low moan when Robin wraps his hand around to stroke. He fights the temptation to move his hips. 

"Yeah, yeah, 'm good," Hal says, and sucks in a breath when Robin starts rocking - small, short little thrusts at first, gradually more until he's pulling out an inch at a time and sliding in slow. 

"Fuck," Hal spits, dropping his forehead to his wrists. "Fuck, you're _good_ at this." 

"I've had practice," Robin breathes, trying for cocky but he can't stop the ripple of arousal that spreads through him, worsened by the faint press against his dick every time he moves. Sweat gathers at the base of his spine under the suit. Hal clumsily knocks Robin's hand away from him. 

"Want - _mm_ \- won't last," he pants, and Robin cannot help the strangled noise that escapes him. 

He settles his fingers into the divot above Hal's hip and places the other on his back again, pinning him gently against the bike. With Hal's quiet moan as encouragement, he continues with his slow rhythm, kicks it up a notch when Hal starts shifting under him. It's _hot_ , watching Hal roll back to meet him, watching the neck of his suit cling to his skin as his muscles tremble under Robin's palm. The bike doesn't move an inch, and one particularly good thrust hits against Robin's cock hard enough to make him moan, heat skittering over his skin. It hard to keep it measured after that, because Hal grunts softly and tries to rock back harder - so Robin pins him down and rolls his hips in a circle that makes Hal's breath stutter audibly. 

"Hal, shit," Robin groans, tightening his grip on Hal to tug him _back_ onto his dick - Hal _whines_. 

" _Robin_ ," He moans, breathy and broken, bracing one hand against the body of the bike as Robin tugs again. " _Fuck_ \- " 

When Hal breaks into another whine, Robin thrusts in hard enough to rock Hal forward. He gives up on slow a handful of thrusts later, and Hal starts panting his name at the new speed, eyes screwing shut under the mask until the eyeholes are nothing but glowing slits. The pace doesn't do Robin any favours, either, repeatedly pressing against him underneath the underwear and making his legs go weak at the combination of everything - his fingers dig in tighter and Hal fucking _whimpers_ , nails biting into the leather seat. They don't have to worry about being quiet, all the way out in the field, so Robin doesn't even bother trying to stifle himself, letting Hal's name fall out with the rest of the soft curses as he fucks him. 

"Please, _please_ ," Hal babbles - Robin's hand almost slides off his back with the next thrust, so he leans over enough to grab Hal's shoulder instead to tug him back onto him, but Hal cries out at the change in angle, a new, bright flush colouring his cheeks. 

"Right there, right there, _fu-uck_ ," he whispers, _begs_ , whimpers when Robin pauses to deliberately grind in - a move that makes both of them groan. 

Robin slips his other hand around Hal's hips to find him almost dripping - _fuck_ \- smearing slick down his shaft and pinning his forearm down Hal's shoulderblade to stop him moving so much with the touch. Hal whimpers again, coughs out a breath that sounds like a whine, and Robin almost comes with the next press of his hips. He fucks in faster at the new angle, swears loudly at the reaction under him, at the way Hal seems to go weak all over, one foot slipping in the grass - Robin strums his fingers mercilessly over the tip of Hal's cock and flushes hot all over at the near-pained whine it gets him, at the new slick that leaks over his fingertips. 

"I'm close, 'm - Robin, _Robin_ ," Hal pants, breathing hitching harshly in the middle as his muscles tremble and tense under Robin. His foot slips again - Robin circles his arm under Hal's waist to hold him up while he fucks in frantically, chasing the amazing pressure against him as much as he's trying to rub deliberately against Hal's sweet spot. 

" _Robin_ \- " Hal whimpers, and comes with a violent shudder, caught between fucking back against Robin and fucking into his fist, and _god_ , Robin can hardly take it, weak and shaky all over while he grinds in against Hal and strokes him, feels come spurt over his fingers and drip down the shaft. Hal moans brokenly and another shiver rips through him, makes his hips slow to a gentle rock between Robin's hips and hand. 

Robin, meanwhile, whimpers quietly and presses his forehead to Hal's armoured back, grinding little circles into Hal to try and get himself off. 

"Hal," he whines softly, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately, _desperately_ trying to get enough pressure - he can feel himself trembling all over, searing hot and shaky, any noise pitching high with desperation. 

"Robin, shit, let me - " 

Robin shakes his head. 

"Fuck, can you - can you get off with - " 

Robin nods. Hal whines a quiet little _fuck_. 

" _Fuck_ , that's hot," he repeats - another drop of come rolls over Robin's still fingers. 

"I'm close," Robin gasps, more just to tell Hal than anything else, but Hal's muffled moan only pushes him closer. His toes curl in his boots, his thighs quiver - his grinding against Hal turns sloppy, messy, _frantic_ , senselessly rubbing his dick against the friction on his underwear - the edge rushes up hot and _imminent_ , and suddenly he's tripping on his next breath and whimpering Hal's name as he comes, panting hotly against armour. Hal curses underneath him. 

Too soon, the friction is far too dry for Robin, edging into painful - he really should have put some lube down there before he started - and he stops with a quiet hiss. Hal is relaxed under him, leaning heavily on the bike. Robin withdraws his hand from Hal's softening cock and gently braces it on his hip to slowly pull out - Hal swears quietly but slumps again when Robin's out. Robin takes the chance to pull the toy out from the harness and fish out the Ziploc bag he brought to put it in afterwards - fuck if he's getting lube all over the inside of his backpack. He'll clean it at home. 

Hal takes a few deep, steadying breaths and eventually pushes himself up off the bike, pulling his suit and underwear up over his ass to tuck himself in before turning around to drop down on the seat facing Robin, his come on the grass between his feet. Robin notices a stray white stain on the bike between his legs. 

"Told you not to ruin my paint job," Robin teases, reaching forward to wipe it off with his fingers. Hal rests his hands on Robin's hips and keeps him close. 

"Oops," he says unapologetically, and kisses Robin. His hand still slides around to squeeze his ass, though. 

"We should _definitely_ do that again," Hal murmurs. Robin hums against his lips. 

"Let me get some fuckin' wipes," he mutters back, glancing at his backpack - he jumps at the sudden press of fingers over his underwear. 

"Can I?" Hal asks, breath puffing out hot over Robin's jaw. Heat shivers through Robin. 

"Yeah," he breathes, but winces at the next press. "Fuck - stop, too dry." 

Hal pauses for a suspiciously long time. Robin can feel the curve of his grin against his cheek. 

"What if I use my mouth?" He asks. It punches all the air out of Robin's lungs. 

"I'll keep the mask on," Hal teases, and Robin kisses him fiercely in response. But he nods, and Hal slides to his knees without another word, fingers hooking in Robin's underwear and pulling it down just enough to get his tongue on Robin's dick. The first touch is both sharply arousing and soothing to his friction-roughed skin. 

"I won't last," Robin warns, threading his dry hand in Hal's hair. Hal nods and tugs Robin's hips in to close his lips around him and _suck_ \- Robin gasps and reaches out to hold the bike body to steady himself - he hadn't realised how _weak_ his knees were. 

It takes an embarrassingly short time to get him close again. He fists his hand in Hal's hair and watches himself fuck Hal's mouth, moans openly at the broad, wet strokes of Hal's tongue over him, at the teasing brush of his lips - at the way Hal looks back up at him, the mask obscuring his eyes but not his flushed cheeks, not the way his lips are already swollen pink and wet when he pops off for a breather and jacks Robin off with his fingers. Robin cries out at the next touch of Hal's tongue, panting his name in the space between them as his fingers dig into unyielding metal and skull alike, bent over with his knees trembling and moaning Hal's name when he comes with a jerk, a full-body shiver rippling through him. Hal chases the pleasant aftershocks with his tongue, sucking gently until Robin's gone vaguely numb from the combination of earlier fabric friction and blowjob and urges his head back. Hal leaves with a kiss and drags his fingers behind Robin's cock before sucking them clean. Robin swears at the sight. Hal smirks. 

Robin hauls him up by the shoulders just to make a point but ends up kissing his stupid grin away anyway, nudging him backwards until Hal's sitting on the bike again. He loops an arm around Robin's neck and hooks fingers in the waistband of his underwear to urge him closer. It's nice, lazy, Robin's hands wandering only so much before they settle on Hal's thighs, thumbs tucking in under armour panels. 

"Good thing I checked the weather," Hal murmurs. Robin chuckles softly. 

"Mm," he agrees. Kisses Hal again. "Maybe next time we can actually do the stunts." 

"I thought we did some pretty impressive stunts tonight." 

"Bending over isn't really a stunt if you do it every weekend." 

"Hey, practice makes perfect." 

Robin's laugh melts into a hum when Hal kisses him again, grinning against his lips. Fingers toy in the hair at the nape of Robin's neck, pluck at the neckline of the suit. Despite being solidly nighttime in an abandoned field, it's not cold, although Robin attributes some of that to the warm press of Hal's mouth to his, softening with each one. His stubble scrapes Robin's chin. When he pulls away, Robin misses it. 

"As nice as this is, I want a shower," Hal mumbles. Robin laughs. 

"I could do with one, too." 

"You wanna give me a ride back?" 

"You just want to ride the bike again, don't you?" 

Hal smiles. "Is that a crime, _officer_?" 

Robin rolls his eyes. Hal laughs. 

"I can get myself back," he says. "You can do whatever you were supposed to do tonight." 

"I didn't have any plans." Robin rubs a circle into Hal's thigh. "I can drive you back." 

Hal considers him for a moment. 

"Do you want to use my shower?" He asks. Robin licks his lips. Rests his forehead against Hal's. 

"Are you trying to get me back to yours, Hal?" 

"Is it working?" 

Robin grins. "Night's still young," he says. Shrugs. "Sure, why not." 

"Deal. You drive us back and I'll try not to jump you the second we park." 

"I didn't realise the bike did so much for you." 

"Oh, it's not the bike, Robin." 


	4. Chapter 4

The text notification nearly buzzes Hal's phone off of the edge of his creeper, and he grunts at the vibration it sends through the hard plastic and straight to his spine. He finishes tightening up the bolt and pushes himself out from underneath the car, until he can see the lady standing by the rear wheel well. 

"It should be all good now, miss," he says, giving her a polite smile and nod. 

"Oh, thank you so much," she gushes - she's young, but dressed in rugged jeans and a button-down with sensible pockets and straps that belies the fancy silver Lexus Hal just finished fixing. Must be a gift. It's not exactly suited for the hiking she's so clearly dressed for, down to the beaten boots. She reaches down to offer him a handshake. 

"Maybe not a good idea," he jokes, showing her his oily palms. 

"Oh," she laughs, and withdraws her hand. "Sorry, force of habit. Thanks again for fixing her, though." 

"Hey, it's no problem," he assures her, sitting up on the creeper to put his tools back in the box. "It's my job." He peers up curiously at the lady. "If you don't mind me asking, what's a hiker doing with a Lexus?" 

"Oh, it's not mine," the lady tells him. She smiles a little sheepishly. "It's for my wife. She just got a new job, so I thought I'd surprise her with a new car, but the damn thing started leaking the moment I took it out of the dealership." 

"Lenny's?" Hal guesses. Their best business comes from Lenny's. It's a crapshoot of a dealership, and Hal honestly doesn't know how they're still in business. 

"Yeah," she sighs. "Guess I learnt my lesson." 

"You should try Speedy's, down on Huckleberry." Hal juts his chin roughly in the direction of it. "Yeah, the name's tacky, but the dealership's one of the best around. I don't think I've ever worked on a new car from Speedy's, unless the driver's just wrapped it around a pole." 

"I'll keep that in mind," the lady promises. "Thanks." She puts a hand in her pocket. "Do I pay you directly or?" 

"Still not a problem." Hal draws his knees up and gestures to the office at the back. "And you pay over there. Carol handles the money side." 

The lady thanks him again and heads off towards the office while Hal wipes his hands on the rag at his belt and checks his phone. The notification is from Robin. 

_we still on for tonight?_

_> yeah_

_> why?_

_can you pick me up later?_

Hal chuckles to himself. 

_> where _

_beach_

_coast guard station_

_> any specific one? _

_I was typing, asshole_

_end of sycamore_

_just follow it to the end_

_> okay _

_> what time _

_whenever you get off work_

_we're supposed to finish at five_

_> see you then _

_see you_

Hal pockets his phone and stands up with his toolbox. He kicks the creeper back against the wall and glances over at the office to see Carol and the lady shaking hands across the counter, smiling and laughing about whatever idle conversation they're having. 

"Hey, Jordan, stop pining and give me a hand!" 

Hal turns around and raises an eyebrow. Guy grins at him from beside a motorbike. 

"Pining?" He asks as he walks over. The bike's been left here for extensive repairs after a busted tyre and the subsequent busted chassis when said tyre burst while driving. The driver walked away fine, though. Mostly they're popping dents and replacing pipes - and, of course, the wheel and axle. 

"I don't fuckin' know, I'm not the one making goofy faces at my phone." 

Hal sets his toolbox on the ground beside Guy's knee and crouches in front of him. 

"I'm not _goofy_." 

"Then Moony Mouse - Christ, Hal, do I hafta spell it out for ya?" 

"Didn't know you could spell at all, Guy." 

"You wound a man, y'know? You wound me." 

Hal shakes his head with a grin and Guy snags the car jack from the toolbox to lift up the back end of the bike by an inch so they have more wiggle room. Hal starts grabbing wrenches and pliers for the ends of dented metal pipes. They'll have to replace the gears as well - god, this is going to be a _bitch_ of a job. 

"And I can spell just fine," Guy continues a moment later, swapping pumping the jack for taking one of the pliers Hal hands him. "For example: M-O-O-N-I-N-G." He smirks. "Who's the lucky fella?" 

"Give it up, Guy." 

"I can play the guessing game." Guy sits back on his heels and reaches under the chassis to start working at a hidden pipe. "Tall, dark, and handsome fit the bill?" 

"Two out of three." Hal chuckles despite himself. 

"All right. Now: job. I'm guessing either another mechanic - " 

"You know I've only got eyes for you and John," Hal sighs playfully, making Guy laugh loudly in front of him. 

"Real charming," he snickers. " _Or_ , retail. Sports shop kinda guy." 

"No," Hal says. "He works - " 

"Shut up, lemme guess," Guy interrupts. Hal laughs again. Guy doesn't even know about _Green Lantern_ , there's no way he'll be able to guess this. 

"Bartender," Guy tries, and looks up to see Hal shaking his head. He frowns. "Bowling alley. Gym instructor. Personal trainer? Builder. Carpenter. Mover - " 

"Nothing like that," Hal replies, and Guy's eyebrows pull together in fake surprise. 

"Hal Jordan, have you gone _corporate_?" He gasps. "Is he an _accountant_?" 

"He's IT," Hal says. Guy presses a hand to his heart. 

"I never thought I'd see the day," he rues, shaking his head. "Hal Jordan dating a software geek." 

Hal suppresses the urge to laugh and correct him about Robin's _actual_ job, but he can't help grinning at Guy's playful melodrama. 

"He also volunteers with the Coast Guard," he supplies, and Guy's eyebrows raise. 

"Okay, so he's a software geek moonlighting as a lifeguard?" 

"They're not lifeguards - " 

"I can see it. Makes sense for you, Jordan." 

"You're an asshole." 

Guy just flashes him a sunny smile and removes a length of broken pipe from inside the bike. They work in relative silence for a while, Hal popping dents on the outside of the chassis while Guy fiddles with the gears and axle, trading tools and information about the bike's terrible condition in equal measure. It's a pleasant way to pass the time, sunlight shining down through the open shutter doors and a cool breeze whistling around the garage. It's just them in today, with Carol running the office. 

"So I bet the sex is vanilla." 

Hal drops his wrench by the front wheel with a splutter. Guy just laughs from the other end of the bike. 

"Although the Coast Guard are probably pretty handy with their knots." Guy leans around the bike to give Hal a leering grin. "All those half hitches and bowlines, eh?" 

Hal barks out a laugh - Guy's always been the more inappropriate of the crew, and even now he's waggling his eyebrows like Hal will just up and tell him all about his sex life. The teasing smile betrays it, though, as nothing more than a joke. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," Hal replies cryptically, and Guy chuckles heartily. 

"Where's the fun if it's not a little freaky?" Guy shrugs and another gear drops to the floor. Hal grins. 

"I know you can't get your rocks off unless someone's tugging on your pigtails and calling you _honey_ ," he teases, meeting Guy's eyes over the seat. "But some of us don't kiss and tell." 

"Okay, that was _one_ time, and I was _drunk_ when I _told_ you about it, and you _know_ drunk stories stay in the bar." 

"Uh-huh." 

"Anyway, she was one of the best nights of my life, and I'm not ashamed." 

"Never said you should be." Hell, the last time Hal was this close to a motorbike he was getting fucked over it, and it's really only the conversation that keeps his mind from drifting into places that should never see the light of day when he's at work. 

And maybe he should analyse his relationship with motorbikes and Robin and Robin's dick, but the bike they're fixing right now doesn't even compare to the sleek, rumbling machine that Robin straddles near nightly, and Hal's _definitely_ got a thing for hot guys on hot vehicles, and he has no complaints to whatever Robin wants to do to him on said hot vehicles - 

" - Earth to Hal, Earth to Hal." 

Hal blinks and stares at Guy's waving hand. 

"Stop daydreaming about your nerdy lifeguard and pass me the fucking socket wrench." 

"I wasn't _daydreaming_." Hal rummages through the toolbox to find said socket wrench and pass it over the middle of the bike. 

"You were _something_." A cranking sound rankles from Guy's side of the bike - a stubborn nut, then. "You need some alone time?" 

"Shut up," Hal chides, shaking his head with a fond laugh. 

"I'll even let you think about me." 

"Yeah, I'll think about the apology you'll give me after John kicks your teeth in." 

"You know as well as I do that John would be on my side." Guy points the wrench at him over the bike. "Moony Mouse." 

"Asshole." 

"Keep sweet-talkin' me like that and you might get somewhere, Jordan." 

\-- 

Hal finds Sycamore Road easily. It's a little after five when he turns left at the end of it and pulls to a stop on the parallel beach parking by the pier, glancing above him to see the railings that lead to the Coast Guard outpost, at the end of the high pier. He turns the engine off and keeps the convertible's roof down when he steps out of it to lean against the hood, arms crossed as he waits. 

He can see a small white boat bouncing on the ocean beyond the beach. There's a group of people in it with bright red swimming trunks - and a couple older men with bright orange vests on as well. The side of the boat labels it as a Coast Guard vehicle, and Hal watches calmly as Robin and the other volunteers mingle on it, gradually drawing closer and closer while the pilot steers them towards the beach. He can see them clearer now, can pick out the different people - and as he watches, the guy with a white streak in his hair shoves Robin overboard in the middle of whatever laughing conversation the group was having. 

Hal instinctively sits up a bit - and then relaxes when he sees Robin surface again and grab at the guy's ankle. A blonde lady behind him pushes, and Robin drags him into the water too, both of them disappearing under the waves with a flurry of kicks. No one else goes under, but the boat does veer to its left to avoid hitting the pier head on, and drives forward towards the beach. 

A few minutes later, a tumble of red shorts and limbs appears above the water much, much closer to the beach. Robin stands up in the surf, along with the other guy, and they're bickering playfully, pushing at each other as they walk out of the ocean - 

Except Hal is no longer looking at the other guy, or at the ocean, or, in fact, anything except Robin. He's shirtless, and _wet_ , and the soaked trunks cling with each step, creased over his thighs and flat over the hips. Water drips off his shoulders, traces a sordid line down his chest, runs in rivulets down his defined biceps, with so, _so_ much wet skin on display that Hal feels a little faint. 

Robin shoves a hand through his wet hair to get it out of his eyes as the pair approach a wooden pole of the pier, and the sun hits his face when he laughs, and Hal feels a visceral, aching urge to kiss him, fit the curve of his mouth to Robin's wet lips and lick away the salty taste of the ocean, run his hands up Robin's back and feel it all flex underneath his fingers when Robin settles damp hands on his hips, ocean water soaking through the fabric and chilling Hal - 

Okay, he never thought he was going to have a fucking Baywatch moment, but apparently here it is. The boat calmly beaches itself on the shore so the other volunteers cam climb off, and then the orange-vested guys - the full-timers, Hal guesses - push the boat back out and U-turn it. Robin glances up and seems a little surprised when he sees Hal waiting there. The white-streak guy beside him looks at Hal, says something, and pushes Robin to the side when he replies - Robin stumbles and laughs, his eyes tearing from Hal long enough to punch the guy's shoulder in return. They pause by a metal ladder that leads up the side of the pier, and Robin says something to the group before breaking away to walk up the rest of the beach towards Hal. The other volunteers start climbing, but Hal catches them shooting indecipherable looks at the back of Robin's head. 

"Hey," Robin says when he approaches. Hal uncrosses his arms and takes a luxurious second to drag his eyes obviously up and down Robin's body, the trickle of water working down his collarbone, the shining damp on his abs. Robin steps closer, a smirk tipping up the corner of his mouth. 

"I need to go shower and get my stuff," he says, but gives Hal an equal treatment, his gaze dropping to the oil-stained tank top and the open jacket Hal just tossed on over it. 

"You can shower at mine," Hal replies. 

"Did you come from work?" Robin asks, reaching out to touch the jacket - and when his eyes pause on the collar of the tank top, Hal sees something familiar flash in them. Something very welcome indeed. 

"Yeah," Hal says dumbly, and finds his one gaze sweeping across Robin's bare, _broad_ shoulders. Robin steps closer again, bare feet on sandy asphalt, close enough to be inappropriate, less than a foot between them. Hal thinks for a dizzying moment that Robin's about to pin him to the metal. 

"You missed a spot," Robin murmurs, and brushes a pruny thumb across a spot on Hal's jaw. Hal swallows thickly. 

"Happens," he replies weakly. Robin's thumb comes away stained black. Hal _itches_ to touch him. 

Instead, he just stares into Robin's eyes - blue, _so_ blue, but not like the ocean, or the sky, or like anything else Hal's ever seen. They're their own blue, some sort of unique hue and tint, and Hal involuntarily leans in. 

Robin plans a hand on his abdomen and leans in a touch, still not close enough, never close enough, but Hal's worldview narrows down to this bubble between them, to blue eyes and parted lips and the heated intent behind it all. Then he leans in _more_ , but not to kiss him - he bypasses Hal's lips to his ear instead. Unable to help himself, Hal reaches up to skate his fingers over Robin's hips. Robin plants a hand on the sun-warmed hood beside him. 

"I really wanna bend you over the car," he whispers, filthy and dirty and sending all sorts of hot, maddening pulses straight down to Hal's dick. 

"What's stopping you?" Hal breathes, smirks, like they're not in public and there's not people on the beach and there's not traffic cameras watching them. "I want you to." 

Robin sucks in a quiet breath by his ear. 

"You'll get fined if you park here for too long," he says. Hal laughs with him. Robin pulls back, but stays close. 

"Then you'd better hurry up and get your stuff," he says, watches Robin smile, watches his eyes drop to Hal's lips and back. "Dinner's not gonna make itself." 

Robin doesn't answer. Instead, he glances up to the railing of the pier, and then back to Hal, and Hal crumbles before he can pull away. 

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, mumbles, murmurs, tucks a couple fingers into the pocket of Robin's trunks and looks down at ocean-damp lips, already drying in the sun. 

Robin kisses him in reply. He does indeed taste salty and ocean-y, and Hal so desperately wants to follow the taste elsewhere on his body, wants to know if it lingers in the crease of hip and thigh, in the spaces between his fingers, wants to know if he licks a stripe up Robin's cock it'll taste like sea salt and arousal. 

Hal pulls away before he starts getting physically aroused. There's a difference between forming idle fantasies in public and popping a boner in public after just a _kiss_. Although by the slight shading of red on Robin's cheeks, he's not far off himself. 

"I don't want to ruin the leather," Robin says. "I can rinse off here." 

"Who cares about the leather?" 

Robin grins. "I thought you were a mechanic." 

"Yeah, and I don't fucking care." Hal licks his lips and feels his cheeks burn with what he's about to admit. "I wanna suck you off." 

" _Hal_." 

"Before the shower," Hal adds, his tongue clumsy with arousal, and Robin's mouth parts on a shaky exhale. 

"This may be one of the only times I'm glad I'm not cis," Robin murmurs, and kisses Hal again, this time full of heated promise. "I could _not_ walk into that locker room right now if I was." 

"Jesus," Hal breathes. Swallows. Opens his eyes. "If you stay, I'm pretty sure I'll get hauled off for public indecency, Robin. Never mind the fine." 

Robin grins. "You've got half an hour for parking." 

"I don't have that kind of time anywhere else," Hal threatens, and shivers when Robin's thumb sweeps over his abdomen over the fabric. 

"I'll shower at yours," Robin replies, his voice a telltale touch thicker. 

"We can shower together," Hal says. He huffs out a laugh to try and break the mood, but it doesn't work. "God knows I need one. I probably smell like a fuckin' pickup." 

Robin chuckles, a rumbling thing deep in his throat, before withdrawing. His hands pull away from Hal and the car, respectively, and Hal misses the warmth already, but lets his fingers slip from Robin as he steps away. 

"It suits you," Robin replies, and slicks wet hair out of his eyes again. He gestures to the outpost. "I'll be quick." 

"Not where it matters, I hope," Hal says, laughing. Robin grins wide and waggles his eyebrows flirtatiously, then turns around to head to the ladder. 

And god help him, Hal didn't expect to have another Baywatch moment, but there he is, mouth dry and dick hard, blatantly staring at Robin's back and ass and thighs as he climbs up the ladder, muscles flexing and clenching and rolling and relaxing and way, _way_ too easy to picture in a different context. God fucking help him, the trunks _cling_. 


	5. Chapter 5

Hal isn't doing much, just kind of patrolling among the cloud cover, when he sees the muzzle flashes on the river below. He frowns and descends in a hard _whoosh_ , air whistling around his ears as he flies towards the boat, but what he sees makes him stop in midair. 

Tiffany kicks a guard in the face and boosts up on her jetpack for some distance - another guard lunges for her and she shoots a shock dart from her gauntlet, yelling something incomprehensible over her shoulder. Hal follows her eyes to see a familiar black shape flip out of the shadows, dropping into a crouch to avoid bullets whizzing over his head as he shouts something back. Robin unsheathes a stick and whacks it at his guard's shins, toppling him with a pained shriek, but his machine gun still tears up the ground between Robin's feet - Robin dodges to the side. 

Hal dives down just as a new team of guards swarms up the stairs to the deck, already shooting, and swoops in just in time to put up a hasty shield for Tiffany's back. She whirls around but stops when she sees who it is, and sees the bullets pinging off of the green shield. 

"Thanks!" She calls, and turns right back around to keep grappling guns out of enemy hands. 

"What the fuck is going on?!" Hal yells, one eye on the guards trying to take out Tiffany's back and the other on Robin, his sticks up at the five guards closing in around him. 

"Come and fucking get it!" Hal hears on the breeze, and finds himself grinning as Robin leaps to the first man, neatly spinning off of his back to propel him to the ground face-first. 

"There's vial shipments below deck!" Tiffany tells Hal - a bullet ricochets off of the _inside_ of Hal's shield and he looks back to see her shock dart the guy responsible. He falls to the deck, unconscious. 

On the other side of Hal, Robin tosses a guy overboard - "I hope you can swim!" - and jabs his sticks against another guard's ribs, startling the gun out of his hands. Robin chucks that overboard, too. 

"Help Robin!" Tiffany shouts. 

"Then I can't shield you!" 

"I'm going higher anyway, I'll circle around to help!" 

"Shield down," Hal warns, and flies over to drop down to deck behind Robin. 

"Was wondering when you'd show up," Robin says over his shoulder, flashing him a grin. He steps backwards so their backs press together - Hal easily copies his circling, counting the guards ganging up around them now. A few peel off to go after Tiffany, but she knocks them on their asses effortlessly. Hal forms a whip and cracks it against the deck. 

"Scared, Nightwing?" A guard snarls on Robin's side. Robin scoffs. 

"What are you gonna do, shoot me?" He goads, and the thunder of bullets almost drowns out Hal's thoughts. Robin grunts, and the gunfire falls silent with the clatter of metal. Hal looks back to see the guard holding his injured hand, one of Robin's sticks lying over his gun on the floor. 

"Yeah that's right, I throw them too!" 

Hal sweeps his whip at the legs of the guards in front of him - a few trip but some only stumble, roaring at him as they charge. It's seamless to roll to the side, lashing out again to tear open clothes and skin - nothing lethal, but enough to make them stagger back and think again before a new group tries to rush Hal. Robin expertly follows him, dodging and feinting and knocking guards out with his sticks and his limbs, moving like fluid through the fight, matching Hal's steps so they stay together, back-to-back - less bullets, this way, because the guards won't want to hit their own people on the other side of the circle. Hal sends out flying fists at his guards, punching them square in the face and making them fall back on themselves; Robin yells and slams a guard headfirst into the deck right behind Hal's heels - another one boldly runs up to yank Hal's arm, but he easily socks him in the jaw. 

Tiffany takes care of her followers enough to zoom above them - except the guards have no fear of shooting at _her_ , with only the sky for the bullets to hit, and they do, so Robin and Hal double up on keeping them distracted, green whips and escrima sticks, knocking out legs while Tiffany grapples guns away and shoots shock darts. 

"You go up, hit them with Tiff!" Robin yells. "I can handle them down here." 

Hal whips at the guards again before jumping and flying up, whirling around to aim at the guards gathering around Robin. He literally picks one off with a green hand, dropping him into the ocean, but it's too slow, so he switches to shooting out the fists again to dizzy the guards and push them back - the fists deconstruct on impact, soon joined by another round. Robin kicks guards in the chest and head and uses their own momentum to propel them overboard, where he can - Tiffany grapples guns into the water to help. Hal and Tiffany fly up a little higher and a little farther out to avoid the bullets, countering them with various projectiles that slam into arms, legs, bodies, that send guards skidding across the deck to crash against the railing. Robin grabs their ankles and flips them off the boat before going back to his own fight - he does a particularly complicated move that involves pushing off of the railing to leap over the guards and thwack them in the heads on his way by with a stick, landing neatly on his feet like a cat. 

With their concerted efforts, the guards thin, but - but something's not right. Hal looks over at the other side of the deck to see more guards, but they're not shooting at Tiffany and Hal, they're not running towards Robin, they're running towards the _lifeboat_. And there's no way _that_ many of them are cowards, not with how fervently the rest are fighting off Tiffany and Robin. No way. 

The lifeboat drops and casts off. Robin heaves another guy overboard. 

Tiffany's head whips around to something at the stern. Her face turns to horror. 

"Robin! C4!" She screams, both through the earpiece and out loud, and rockets backwards on the jetpack - in slow motion, Hal sees her look down at Robin, and back at the stern - Hal knows she can't fly down fast enough to save Robin and get out, not with the limitations on her manoeuvrability that the jetpack has. Robin says something over the earpiece and Tiffany shouts at him to go - Hal watches as Robin starts dragging barely conscious guards over the railing, trying to save them, but then the boat explodes. 

Time slows down. Tiffany rockets backwards with the force of both her pack and the blast shockwaves - Hal kicks himself in gear to move with the blast, flying backwards and then forwards again when he looks down and sees Robin falling from the boat, but not in the controlled dive Hal expected, no, in a straight _drop_. Back first. 

Hal's heart leaps into his throat as he dives down to catch Robin before he hits the water - heat simmers over the back of his neck and shrapnel slices the air around him, but he just tosses up a shield and grabs Robin around the waist with his other arm, quickly shooting up to join Tiffany in the heights as the boat becomes debris. Hal loses the shield and hooks his other arm under Robin's knees, holding him close to his chest. 

"Is he okay?" Tiffany asks, concern marring her features - she looks like she's about to cry, hands flitting over Robin's unconscious body. Hal can feel Robin's ribs expand against his forearm. 

"He's breathing," Hal says, panicked, watching as Tiffany checks Robin's pulse, checks his breathing, looks over his head for any immediate injuries. 

"You have a med bay, right?" Hal asks. Tiffany nods and gestures for him to follow her, rocketing away at high speed. Hal follows easily, forming a construct to keep Robin cradled against his chest as they disappear into the night. 

\-- 

"We just lost a _major_ lead - _fuck_!" Tiffany slams her fist on the desk beside the keyboard, anger and fear rigid throughout her whole body. 

Hal glances over at Robin, laying unconscious on a gurney in the central platform of the Batcave. Tiffany had taken over the medical side for Robin, running him through the various scanners and X-ray machines down here, checking for any sign of _any_ injuries. Thankfully, she didn't find any except a broken rib. Since the explosion started at the stern and Robin was halfway down the boat, it didn't hit him directly, so Hal counts that among their few blessings tonight. 

"Do you have any others?" Hal asks. Tiffany shakes her head and drops down into the chair in front of the Batcomputer, looking forlornly up at the various information reports on the screen. Air analysis around the boat, a GCPD scanner, live press coverage, automatic evidence cleaning from Tiffany's and Robin's masks. Hal watches it scrub through the blast and loop around to the beginning to do another cleaning run. It's muted. 

"At least the vials were empty," Hal offers. Tiffany nods. Then tries to pull up the evidence videos and loads the audio files that go with them - but she can't seem to figure out what to do, and while Hal watches the mouse rest uselessly over a greyed out button, Tiffany buries her head in a hand. She sniffles. 

"I don't - I don't know how to do it," she says, gesturing at the screen. "Robin always does it, it's a new system he made - " and when she breaks off with another quiet sob, Hal wheels his chair over to rest a hand on her shoulder. 

"Hey, it's okay," he says softly. His chest aches with the sound of Tiffany crying - it's so at odds with how he's always seen her otherwise, brave and strong and smart and funny - but Hal's not an idiot. He knows about Tiffany's history with explosions. And even though Robin survived this one, he knows it must be tearing Tiffany up inside. 

"It's _my_ fault," she says, voice thick. "If I had scanned the boat before, or if - if I hadn't just _left_ him down there - " 

Hal gently turns her chair a little to wrap an arm around her shoulders - Tiffany collapses gratefully into the embrace. 

"It's not your fault," he murmurs, running a soothing hand up her other arm. "It's _not_. It was completely unexpected." 

Tiffany cries silently against his shoulder. 

"I should have gotten him," she mumbles eventually. 

"We both know you wouldn't have made it," Hal says gently. "Neither of you." 

"He went back for the guards," Tiffany says. Hal nods. 

"He knew what he was doing," he reassures her, but his throat closes up at the possibility of what could've been. "He just wants to help people." He pauses. "You would have done the same." 

Tiffany is still for a long time, but then she nods. And sighs. 

"Yeah," she says. "I would've." 

She sniffs and pulls back from Hal, wiping her face with her sleeve. She laughs a little. 

"Sorry about that," she says, gesturing to Hal's suit. Hal shakes his head. 

"Never a problem," he assures her. Tiffany tugs tissues out of the box on the desk and blows her nose. Hal politely looks away, glancing up at the Batcomputer again to watch the minimised muted press coverage. All that's left of the boat is a charred hull, smoke pouring up into the stars. 

"Thanks for having our backs," Tiffany says, looking over at Robin. "I know we haven't really talked much but...but it means a lot." She glances back at Hal. And extends a hand to him. 

"A friend of Robin is a friend of mine." 

Hal shakes her hand gratefully, smiling at her. "I could say the same to you." 

Tiffany laughs. Wipes her face again. 

"I'm gonna - go clean up in the bathroom," she says. "I don't want Robin seeing me like this if he wakes up. He'll feel guilty." 

Hal waves her off and walks over to Robin's gurney while she cleans up. Despite the night, Robin looks pretty okay. There's a bruise blooming on his cheekbone, and a few more trailed over his arms and chest where shrapnel hit his armour but didn't pierce. Tiffany had to remove the top half of his suit to wrap his ribs, so there's thick bandage looped around Robin's ribs, and his hands lay still by his hips, knuckles just a touch bloody. The lower half of his suit looks as hellish as the top half does on the floor, scratched and pockmarked all over, panels dented and paint scraped away to reveal shining silver metal underneath. 

Tiffany's footsteps are quiet until she stops beside Hal. 

"So you guys revamped this place?" He asks, glancing up at the Batcave. Tiffany nods. 

"Not much," she admits. "Just added on, mostly. Batman has amazing tech." 

"Who designed the bikes?" Hal asks, jerking his chin to the pair of motorbikes parked beside the Batmobile. 

"Me. I handle more of the...physical stuff. Designing and manufacturing the armour and tech. Robin's the IT guy." 

"IT, huh?" Hal chuckles, looking back down at the bruised man in front of them. "I'm pretty sure this isn't in his normal job description." 

"Hey, he wanted to join me out there," Tiffany says. "He was hired just to be informational backup. Be the voice in my ear on the field." 

Tiffany pauses, seemingly searching for the right words. 

"I'm glad he decided to go into the field as well," she says quietly. "He's the best partner I could ask for." 

"You guys are a pretty solid team," Hal agrees. Tiffany nods. 

Silence lapses between them. Tiffany reaches for one of the little stools and rolls it over. 

"I'm glad you're his friend," she says, but there's something hidden in her words. Hal glances at her. 

"I have to go talk to the GCPD," she adds, looking meaningfully at him. She offers him the stool. "You want to stay with him? In case he wakes up?" 

"By myself? In the Batcave?" 

Tiffany shrugs. "Robin trusts you. So do I." 

"Then...yeah," Hal says softly. "Yeah, if that's okay." 

"Call me if you need anything," Tiffany says, patting his shoulder. "Robin's phone has my number." 

She pulls on her suit gloves and mask again before waving goodbye to Hal and taking off on her motorbike. The growl of the engine fades faster than the garage shuts with a quiet _click_. Hal sighs and sits down on the stool. He unhooks the lantern from his belt and tugs off his ring - his suit disappears to reveal his normal clothes - to pocket it in his jeans. He places the lantern by his feet and makes a mental note to not forget it later. 

And...he waits. He scrolls his phone, he taps his foot along to quiet music, he waits. He cleans up the top half of Robin's suit and puts it on a worktable, he gently detaches and removes Robin's boots to set them at the foot of the gurney. 

In a moment of weakness, he rests a hand in Robin's upturned one, running his thumb over taped bandage. 

He forces himself to not focus on it as he watches news feeds on his phone - the press coverage is slowing, but only a little, and now they're interviewing Commissioner Gordon and Chief Montoya about the incident. Hal spies Tiffany in the background, talking to some other officers. He looks around the Batcave, at the wide, sweeping ceiling, at the broad platforms, at the silent Batmobile gathering dust, at the silent Batcomputer still running through reports. But the longer he looks, the more personal touches he can see. 

On the worktable behind him - family photos framed on a table, purple earbuds splayed across forgotten tools, stacks of messy notebooks and blueprints. A half-built gauntlet. A mug with _World's Best Dad_ on it, faded and worn with age. Newspaper clippings. Tiffany's stuff. 

At the Batcomputer, too far away to make out details, but Hal can see earbuds and a reusable plastic coffee cup, scattered batarangs painted bright blue. Curiosity pushes him out of the stool, letting go of Robin's hand to walk up to the Batcomputer. Hal brushes his fingers over the leather chair, over the keyboard, the letters on it faded with use. It's stupid, but he can't help thinking about Robin working here, plugging in his wireless earbuds and tapping away at the greying keyboard, wheeling back and forth between side monitors - there's slight ruts in the rug underneath the desk. A backpack that Hal recognises. Red shoes tucked in the corner. A jacket hung over a second, unused chair. Hal runs his fingers over the shoulders before turning around and heading back to Robin. 

He sits down and slips his hand into Robin's again. Robin doesn't respond. 

It's only been roughly an hour since Tiffany left, and she's likely to be gone for longer, with the scale of that explosion, so Hal settles in for idly swiping through social media. The explosion coverage has already grown stale, with reporters quoting terms such as _confidential details_ and _ongoing investigation_ from the GCPD. Hal glances at the Batcomputer and watches the footage from afar, sees the stern explode, rapidly followed by the rest of the boat - sees himself swooping in, barely missing debris. He looks away. Back to Robin. Back to his phone. 

"The Script?" 

Hal's head snaps up at the sound of Robin's voice. 

"I have to fuckin' - " Robin breaks off coughing, then presses a hand to his broken rib and groans. His other hand twitches in Hal's. "Tiff, what - " but then his eyes open and he sees Hal. 

"Hal," he rasps dumbly. He coughs again, sounding only a little like he's choking, and Hal reaches underneath the gurney to grab a handful of paper towel and hand it to him. Robin coughs and spits into it. Hal offers him a bottle of water and a cup - Robin swishes and spits black into the cup. He groans. 

"Ugh, I taste of smoke," he wheezes. Swishes and spits again. There's much less black now. 

"I have to fuckin' wake up to The Script?" Robin accuses, tiredly raising an eyebrow at Hal. Hal laughs - he hadn't even realised what his playlist had gotten onto, and pauses his music. 

"Sorry," he says. Grins. "Were you hoping for Bonnie Tyler?" 

"Only - " Robin coughs " - only if thematically appropriate." 

Knocked unconscious and _still_ joking. Hal can't help laughing. 

"I guess I was kind of holding out for a hero," he jokes. "How you feeling?" 

"Rough." Robin pokes curiously at his bandages. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Broken rib. Mostly a fracture." 

"Aw, _fuck_." Robin rests his head against the propped-up pillow again. "It doesn't hurt _that_ much, though." 

"Tiffany loaded you up on painkillers," Hal replies. "She's out there talking to the GCPD." 

"So it's just you down here?" 

"Just me." 

"Huh." Robin closes his eyes. "Does Batman know?" 

"I don't think so," Hal says carefully. Robin grunts noncommittally. He shifts his hand on the gurney deliberately towards Hal. Turns it over. Uncurls his fist. A question. Hal gently slides his palm against Robin's. Is glad that Robin's eyes are closed so he can't see the flush that rises on Hal's cheeks. 

"Thanks for staying," Robin says. 

"You got blown up, of course I was staying." 

Robin chuckles quietly. "Takes more than that to get rid of me." 

"I'll try harder next time," Hal jokes. Robin laughs - and winces, a second later. 

Hal squeezes his hand. Robin squeezes back. 


	6. Chapter 6

Robin hates bed rest. But Tiffany tattles to Jim, who tattles to Bruce, who marches up to Robin's room with breakfast on a tray and insists on taking care of him. 

Okay, Robin doesn't hate _that_ part so much. And he gets to hang out with Tiffany when she's not working, and call Hal in the evenings, even though he can't visit. And it's only a week before he gets to antsy to be pent up in his room anyway - most of his bruises and scrapes have healed, and as long as he doesn't exacerbate his ribs too much, he should be fine. 

"So, any fun stuff from the evidence tape?" He asks, swinging himself forwards on his crutches. Tiffany glances over at him from the Batcomputer. 

"You're not supposed to be down here," she says, smiling. 

"You can't keep me away," Robin replies, easing down the stairs to slowly make his way over. Tiffany switches chairs so he can collapse in the one in front of the computer, leaning the crutches against the desk. 

"Thanks," he says, idly rubbing his bruised ribs. "What are you doing?" 

"Just looking through all the mask footage," she replies. "Seeing if there's anything we missed." 

"I thought Jim had given you some other cases to do." 

"He did, but I can't just leave this." 

Robin regards her carefully. It's been a weird couple weeks since he was injured - things left unspoken on both sides, but nothing big enough to keep them apart. Just odd silences when it comes to discussing anything personal about that night. Professionally, they've talked through everything. 

But there's some things Robin's just not sure he knows how to say yet. 

"Let me take a look," he says, opening his hand for the mouse she slides over. "How's our antidote coming along?" 

"Trial and error. I can neutralise part of it but not another." 

Robin hums in acknowledgement as he loads raw footage - instead of the sharpened and edited footage they turn over to the GCPD, which mostly just cuts out unnecessary conversations - and plays through it. Tiffany busies herself with her tablet and pen, probably sketching, and glances up every so often to watch what Robin's looking through. 

The jewellery store. The traces of blood from Tiffany's mask, but no pattern, no trail. The shattered glass on Robin's. Seeing Hal. _I was wondering when the Bat-brigade would get here_. Robin speeds up through that interaction, but he notices Tiffany's head lift in the corner of his eye. 

The truck chase. Tiffany's view of traffic cameras and the route she followed, expertly tracing the uniforms back to their origin. A quick, but thorough inspection of the outside of the building, a view of patrolling guards. No fingerprints on door handles. Smart. No IDs, too many faces covered. Switch to Robin's mask, slow down, zoom in on the gunmen, skip over Hal's flirting. No plates on the car. Model and make leads back to a dealership thievery. Still no IDs or leads. Guns are anonymous and plentiful - bought to be discarded, not personal weapons. Watching the GCPD deal with the gunmen from the rooftop. Hal suddenly too close - 

Robin abruptly closes the video and goes to the next one. Tiffany ducks her head. Robin's cheeks feel hot. He had forgotten _that_ would be on the raw footage of his mask. 

The rubble of the supplier warehouse. Tiffany's fingerprint scanning and matching, the drone video of metal pillars. Robin's scrap of uniform cloth. Nothing they haven't already pored over. 

The boat. A lot of yelling, a lot of fighting, tabbing between their two feeds. Tiffany shooting around Robin and Hal to pick off the guards they were distracting. Clean, neat, practiced - Robin feels a surge of pride at the display. Robin's mask is the messiest video, whirling around dizzyingly with his flips, nothing more than assessing guards and swinging sticks - on the split monitor, Tiffany's mask scans and zooms in on the stern. Robin's snaps to the guards, to pulling them over, and seconds later, the view suddenly flips and distorts, broken video showing scraps of hull, of fire. Of bodies. 

Tiffany looks away. Robin speeds through Tiffany's footage of Hal sweeping down to save him, and their conversation, and ends the video. He doesn't need to review that one again. He's been seeing it for weeks whenever he closes his eyes. 

There's nothing new. 

Robin loads up their shared email and paws through new cases instead, catching up on what Tiffany's solved while he's been upstairs. A few house burglaries, couple auto thefts, a missing person found two days later and returned to their family. Jim's been keeping her busy - Robin suspects it's not purely out of professional interest. 

"I like Hal," Tiffany says after a long while. "He's a good guy." 

"I'm sure I don't know why you just said that," Robin says evenly. Tiffany scoffs lightly. 

"He's been helping me," she explains. "With Jim's cases." 

"Two weeks and you're already replacing me." 

She laughs softly. "You're not getting off the hook that easy." 

A pause, and she glances up at him. "Hey." 

"Hello. I'm still here." But Robin looks at her anyway, and she stands. 

"Follow me," she says, beckoning him over. She waits patiently for him to tuck the crutches under his arms again, hobbling after her. 

Tiffany leads him down the stairs and turns on the central platform to head up the left side, towards the armoury. Once full of Bruce's stuff, now his suit and old gadgets are relegated to the trophy case platform to make room for their stuff. Robin's suit still lays in piece on the worktable. Tiffany's is hung up in her display case. She presses a button beside the twin display cases - the floor of the second, empty one opens up and a platform rises from below. A platform with a suit on it. 

Robin's suit. A _new_ suit. 

"Wow," he breathes, pressing his fingers up to the glass. "Tiff, did you - " 

"I made another one," she finishes. "It's exactly the same as your old one." She shuffles on her feet. "I didn't know if you'd want your old suit. It's...structurally fine, just superficially damaged." 

Robin drops a crutch and tugs her into a one-armed hug, uncaring of the pressure it puts on his ribs. It startles an _oof_ out of Tiffany, but she hugs him back anyway, chuckling into his shoulder. He presses his cheek to the side of her head, her hair tickling his nose. 

"You didn't have to," Robin says, glancing back at the suit. " _Wow_." 

"I wanted to," Tiffany tells him, muffled. He squeezes her shoulders. She clenches her fingers on his back in a painless version of affection. 

"Thank you." Robin pulls back to look at the suit again. It's just as beautiful as the first time he got his old suit, paint shining softly in the gentle case lighting. 

"I missed you," Tiffany says. 

"I was just upstairs." But he knows what she means. 

"Dumbass. I meant down here. Out there." 

"I missed you, too," Robin says quietly. "C'mon, let me help down here. I can be your Alfred." 

Tiffany considers him, but then laughs. "I can never say no to you." 

"Awesome. So what's our next case, detective?" 

"You'd have to ask Jim about that." 

\-- 

"New missing persons," Jim says brusquely, dropping a manila folder unceremoniously on the conference table. Tiffany reaches over to slide it closer and open it. 

"Jonathan Crane," Tiffany reads, thumbing her earpiece to broadcast as a speaker as well. "Professor at Gotham U." 

"Titanium skull and leg," Robin notes, watching through her mask feed. "From a car accident in high school. Jim, why are you giving us this?" 

"We've got no leads on the toxin case," Jim says, jabbing his unlit cigarette into the corner of his mouth. He glares up at the smoke detector. "And I've got my officers on a tight leash because of it. So I figured I'd open up another case to you two." 

"You think we can find him?" Tiffany asks. Jim shrugs. 

"I hope you do," he says. "He hasn't been seen in three days. Hasn't come to class, hasn't been in his house since the weekend, according to Forensics. No sightings, no leads. I know we have your tech now, but, well." Jim waves his hand. "You can cover more ground than us." 

"Any idea where he might go if this is his idea?" Robin asks. 

"It's all in the file. But no. Reports say he only spent time on campus or at home. Not many friends. We've already questioned them." 

"We'll check it out," Tiffany says, scooping up the folder to tuck it into her backpack. 

"Thanks." 

"No problem, Jim," Robin adds. Tiffany nods politely at him and leaves the room, her mask bobbing with her movements. 

"I don't like how stressed he seems," Tiffany murmurs. Robin shakes his head. 

"Me neither. We need to figure out the toxin." 

"They've gone into hiding, whoever they are," Tiffany reminds him. "It all went off the radar after the boat." 

Robin 'mm's in agreement. "You heading straight to his house?" 

"I'll stop by the cave first," Tiffany says. She sounds like she's smiling. "Pick up some new tech I made for us." 

\-- 

Hal meets Tiffany outside the address she texted him, which is an average looking house with weeds pushing up the front lawn and a dented mailbox. The flag's still up. All she's told him so far is it's a missing persons case, and that she'll fill him in later. 

"Hey." 

"Hey," Hal greets, turning around to face the footsteps. "This the house?" 

"Yep." Tiffany pops the 'p' and looks at the front door, its grey paint peeling. "He's a professor at Gotham U. Went missing three days ago, GCPD think - at least, that's the last time anyone saw him. They've already checked his house over, but I thought we should do a sweep as well." 

"Any connections?" Hal asks. "Any suspects?" 

Tiffany shakes her head. "None. His friends say he's usually quiet, keeps to himself, so they didn't think much of his silence the first day. It was when he didn't show up to class that they started knocking around here." 

"Huh. Lead the way, then," Hal says, gesturing for Tiffany to go ahead of him. But she doesn't move yet. 

"Actually, I got you something," she says, unzipping her jacket pocket and dropping something small into Hal's palm. He holds it up for a closer look. 

"Is this...an earpiece?" He asks, oddly touched. It's black and round, with a stripe of green light around part of the curve. There's a few tiny, discrete buttons on it. "One of your earpieces?" 

"Yeah." She taps her ear, grinning. "Figured it would make it easier for us to communicate. Sorry I didn't get it sooner." 

The meaning doesn't escape Hal. He's been working with Tiffany while Robin's on bed rest, but it was mostly informal, texting and meeting up for the physical team-up more than the full discussion. But this means that Tiffany wants to _work_ with him, not just as a handy backup. As a _team_. He strokes the green stripe with his thumb and knows it matches the purple stripe on Tiffany's piece, the blue on Robin's. 

"Thank you," he says, putting it in his ear. Tiffany just smiles suspiciously wider. 

"Hey, Hal!" bursts in his ear, and Hal almost physically stumbles back at the disembodied voice. 

"How's it going?" Robin asks, and Hal can't help smiling at the familiar sound of his voice. 

"I didn't know you were active again," he says. 

"I'm grounded," Robin pouts. "But Tiff says I can help from the cave instead." 

"I also put in a few new channels," Tiffany says. "So we can switch who we're talking to. Just press the buttons. Channel 1 is all of us. Channel 2 is you and Robin. Three is me and him, and four is you and me." 

Hal knows full well private channels isn't field standard for Bat-tech. _Thanks_ , he mouths, so Robin doesn't hear it. Tiffany nods obligingly and turns to walk up the garden path to the door. 

"Anyway, Crane hasn't got much on file. Titanium skull and titanium bolts in the right leg from a high school car accident fifteen years ago. Tall guy, six one. He's uh - " Robin shuffles papers on the other end, "pretty plain looking. Caucasian, blonde hair - think straw. Crooked nose." 

"So pretty average," Hal says. 

"Pretty much," Robin agrees. Stale air wafts out of the door when Tiffany opens it. Both of them wrinkle their noses. 

"I sure hope he didn't have any pets," Hal says, and follows Tiffany in. 

"Check this, though, he was doing some weird experiments at Gotham U," Robin continues. 

"I'm going upstairs," Tiffany tells Hal. "You cover downstairs?" 

"Sure thing." 

"I've already been debriefed," Tiffany adds. "So you guys can use your new channel." 

Robin clicks something and speaks with a deep, exaggerated voice. "Robin to Hal, Robin to Hal, are you receiving? Over." 

Hal laughs. "Yeah, I'm receiving." 

Tiffany smiles fondly at him before heading upstairs. Hal feels a little giddy inside. 

"Were the new channels your doing?" Hal asks, can't help his curiosity. He walks carefully through the dusty kitchen. 

"No, they were Tiff's idea," Robin says. "Surprised me with them this morning." 

Hal can hear Robin's smile in his voice. 

"So what experiments was Crane doing?" He asks instead, opening cupboards and drawers. There's tinned and dry food in there, well-stocked - but, Hal notes, no dishes in the sink. They're all neatly put away in the cupboard above the sink. 

"Stem cell research. But not the usual kind. He was looking into restorative tissue properties." 

"Is he a biology professor?" 

"Psychology. But I guess he had some sort of...research grant or something." 

"Okay, so tissue properties. Isn't that normal stem cell stuff?" 

"Not what Crane was doing." Robin taps on a keyboard. "He was looking into accelerated restoration. Rapid regrowth of cells." 

Hal checks the fridge. Empty. So is the freezer. 

"Like...healing?" 

"Think more like regeneration," Robin says. "I've got some copies of notes he left down there - he's _obsessed_ with it. Skin growth, blood clotting speeds, immune system regeneration. I've never heard of shit on this scale." 

"Hold on," Hal says, and presses his earpiece to switch to Channel 1. "The kitchen's completely empty. Did his friends come over and clean it up? Did the GCPD?" 

"GCPD reports say they didn't touch anything," Tiffany replies. "They just dusted for prints and DNA, but there was no sign of forced entry here, and no sign of anyone entering the property for days." 

"It's completely bare," Hal continues. "Like...like it was _planned_." 

"That's our theory," Tiffany says. "But we wanted more proof than just the reports before detailing it to Jim." 

"So here we are," Hal says. 

"Here we are," Tiffany agrees. "Keep looking." 

"Will do." And he switches back to Robin. "So he's trying to, what, regenerate something?" 

"It would mean he could heal himself, maybe," Robin muses. "Potentially immortality." 

"That doesn't sound good." 

"Nope. But so far, all we know is he's a missing professor. There's nothing shady in his history." 

Hal hums and steps into the living room. He takes a few minutes to inspect the shabby sofas, the dusty TV set. There's well-thumbed books on a coffee table - Dickens, Pavlov, Jung. Normal professor stuff. 

"So, how have you been?" Hal asks eventually. Robin and him have kept in touch, texting whenever and calling every other night, but this feels different. Maybe it's just Robin's return to the job. 

"It's been okay," Robin says. "Tiff and - my roommates are taking care of me. I haven't had to cook dinner in two weeks." 

"Any excuse?" 

"Any excuse." Robin pauses in his typing. "I miss seeing you, though." 

"Me or just parts of me?" Hal teases. 

"Mm, parts of you," Robin allows, a grin creeping into his voice. "But also you." 

"Me too," Hal admits. He crouches in front of a small bookcase and pokes through the memorabilia on the shelves - plastic touristy mementos from American attractions, mostly. 

With the living room clear, Hal heads to the tiny bathroom beside the stairs, but there's nothing there except a grungy bar of soap and a mildewy shower curtain. The dark closet under the stairs reveals scant cleaning supplies. Hal casts a light inside with his ring. 

"This Crane guy have any family?" Hal asks, nudging aside bleach bottles - a _lot_ of bleach bottles. Too many for a standard household. 

"Just parents. But they're in retirement homes in Blüdhaven," Robin answers. 

"Blüdhaven?" 

"Crane's hometown," Robin explains. He shuffles papers. "They haven't heard anything from him either."

Hal wipes his fingers across a dingy shelf and they come away sticky. 

"Odd," he murmurs, and turns his fingers towards his light. The stickiness is a dark red. Almost brown. Hal's eyes widen. He awkwardly reaches around his head to change radio channels with his dry hand. 

"Tiffany, get down here," he says. 

"What's up?" She asks. Footsteps thunder above his head as she heads down the stairs. 

"I found blood," Hal says, and hears both of their shocked gasps. Tiffany's torch swings up to light the inside of the closet. 

"The bleach," Hal points out. "He lives alone, right? No way he should have that much." 

"Maybe he's a doomsdayer," Robin says. "Tiffany, can you look at that shelf?" 

Tiffany turns to the shelf Hal touched so Robin can see it through her mask. Then she presses careful fingers to it - haptic sensors, Hal remembers. 

"It's definitely blood," she says. Hal grimaces at his fingers. Tiffany wordlessly fishes something out of her jacket and hands Hal a pack of - alcohol wipes? 

"Wow, you come prepared." He gratefully takes a couple out and thoroughly wipes his fingers clean. 

"You know how much weird shit I've accidentally touched? These pay for themselves. Robin, have you got a match?" 

"It's Crane's blood," Robin replies. 

"That's not good," Hal mutters, shoving the balled up wipes in a pocket. He and Tiffany push aside rags and mops and brooms to try and find more blood - Tiffany spots some splatters in the corner under another bleach bottle. 

"That's odd," she says. "In the corner?" But then she pauses, and Hal sees it the same time the other two do. 

"It goes under the wall," Robin says. 

"Hidden door?" Hal asks. Tiffany's mouth twists. 

"How does it open?" 

Hal considers the wall. 

"Well, we don't need to keep the house intact, do we?" He asks. Tiffany gives him a questioning look. 

"Jim knows we're here, yeah," she says slowly. "And he'll get this mask feed later." 

"Then I can just break it down." Hal shrugs. 

"Fuck it, sure." Tiffany steps back so Hal can position himself in front of the wall. He builds a small battering ram and slams it against the wall. It gives with a crack of drywall - another few hits and the entire middle of it crumbles to their feet, exposing the beginning of wooden stairs leading down. The channel clicks over in Hal's ear. 

"Hot," Robin says. Hal bites back what he wants to say and instead holds up a middle finger to Tiffany. 

"That's for Robin," he explains, and she laughs. 

"Point taken," Robin says. The channel clicks back. 

"This is like watching a horror movie," Robin says to them both. "You should definitely not go down the stairs." 

Hal and Tiffany exchange a glance. 

"For the record, I don't like this," Hal says. 

"Me neither." 

But they still head down, following the drops of blood - cautiously, slowly, the white light of Tiffany's torch mixing with Hal's green glow. The stairs are creaky, but short, and lead to a basement. It smells of dust and faded copper, and the concrete monotone of the walls makes it seem much smaller than it is. 

"Secret basement, huh?" Robin says. "It's not in the public plans. I'll tell Jim." 

Tiffany swings her light up to the ceiling. "It's normal so far." 

Then Hal lights up the opposite wall. 

"Okay, it's not normal anymore," Tiffany says. 

The blood trail leads to tables against the back wall, with various tools laying around - hammers, drills, even car jacks, oddly enough - but that's not the oddest thing. The oddest thing is more dried blood. It's _everywhere_ , stained puddles on the tables, coating the business end of the tools, dripped onto the floor. There's a few bloody bootprints among the mess, handprints on tool handles. 

Tiffany reluctantly moves closer to analyse it. Hal explores the far corner. It's just cupboards over here, holding...rubber aprons, and gloves, and buckets. Hal's imagination runs wild despite the fact that these are clean, no blood. Then he checks the large box next to the cupboard. 

"There's an ice box here," he says. "I...don't want to check that." 

"It's all Crane's blood," Robin confirms. Tiffany appears beside Hal. "So either he was killed down here..." 

"Or it's part of his experiments," Tiffany finishes. "Regeneration." 

"On himself?" Hal asks. Tiffany nods. 

"He could've been testing it on himself," Robin agrees. "Injuring himself to then heal it. Studies it theoretically at the university, with tissue samples, and studies its...practical effects here." 

Tiffany shivers. Hal constructs a crowbar and gently lifts the lid of the ice box - he doesn't want to touch _anything_ down here. 

The lid flips up. Tiffany gags and turns away. Hal looks away, but then glances at it. It's...a bloodbath in there, dried blood splashed over ice cubes, small mysterious... _chunks_ of stuff Hal does _not_ want to think about, and there's vacuum sealed bags nestled among it all. A peek tells Hal they're tissue samples stolen from the university. 

"What is it?" Robin asks. "Tiffany, what's in there?" 

"You tell him, Hal, I am not going back over there," Tiffany says. "I'm telling Jim he needs a biohazard team over here." 

"It's stolen tissue samples," Hal says. "And a lot of blood." 

"Jesus." 

"It's disgusting." Hal lets the lid drop and retreats back to the base of the stairs where Tiffany is. 

"Let's go back upstairs," he says. "I don't want to spend any more time down here." 

"Yeah, second on that," Tiffany agrees, looking a little pale. "GCPD's on their way." 

"We'll meet them outside." 

\-- 

Robin rubs his tired eyes as he dump chicken noodle soup into a pot. The clock on the microwave beeps four a.m., but he hasn't gone to sleep yet. He tried, but even now when he closes his eyes all he can see is explosions and body parts, painted on the backs of his eyelids in fuzzy detail made sharper by the footage memory. 

When the image starts moving, that's when Robin knows to give up going to sleep. All he'll get are nightmares. But every ache of his healing injuries, every twinge of faint pain, reminds him of the boat, of frantically hauling guards overboard, trying to get them in the water - and then boom and it goes black for him. He thinks of the crack in Tiffany's voice after Hal picked him up, of his limp body, thinks of the people that didn't make it off of the boat. Thinks of the GCPD investigation, of the early but blossoming identifications. Explosions. Bodies. 

He frowns at the soup. Barely even notices Bruce wandering in. 

"Robin," Bruce says. He sounds surprised. "What are you doing?" 

"Couldn't sleep," Robin says. He rubs his eyes again. He's fucking exhausted. "Why are you awake?" 

"Jim got called out." Bruce opens the fridge to find a carton of orange juice. "Woke me up." 

Robin _mm_ s noncommittally. His soup is taking a while to heat up. He glances up at Bruce and Bruce's eyebrows furrow in worry. 

"Robin, are you okay?" He asks, concerned. Robin sways a little on his feet and nods. 

"'M fine," he says. "Just tired." 

Bruce sets down the carton and rests a hand on his shoulder. Robin flinches at the touch, then hisses at the twinge in his ribs. Bruce hurriedly withdraws his hand, worry drawn in the lines on his face. 

"Robin, you should get some rest," he says gently. Robin shakes his head. 

"I can stay home with you if you don't want to be alone," Bruce adds, and Robin ducks his head. A sudden lump forms in his throat, exhaustion and nightmares and stress and four a.m. all rushing up to him. He tries to swallow it and fails. The soup bubbles below him. 

"I don't want to sleep," he says quietly. Bruce cautiously rests a hand on his arm - this time Robin doesn't panic. Funnily enough, if he were to speak to anyone, Bruce would probably be the best choice. Or Tiffany. But Robin doesn't want to unload his shit on her. 

"Is this from the boat?" Bruce asks gently, so stupidly gently, that it almost makes Robin angry. Instead, he just nods. Soup spits up at him. Bruce turns off the stove and pulls the pot to the side. 

"Robin, I - " Bruce swallows and tries again. "Don't do this alone. You can talk to me. Or - I used to see a therapist, when I was Batman. For...stuff like that. If you - If you want to do the same, I can recommend a few - " 

"Can - Can you save that for later?" Robin asks softly, holding up a hand. "I don't want to do this right now." 

Bruce nods and leans back against the counter, a comforting hand still on Robin's arm. He politely looks away while Robin tries to compose himself, squeezing his eyes shut and taking slow breaths, as deep as he can without aggravating his rib. Bruce's hand leaves and Robin hears the clang of a bowl and the pouring of soup. A drawer opens and a spoon dings softly against the ceramic. Hears a cupboard, the sink, and a glass set down next to the bowl. 

"Let me know if you want me to stay," Bruce says quietly, and pats Robin's arm before busying himself at the other end of the kitchen. Robin opens his eyes, miraculously dry, and stares at the soup and water Bruce left him. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he dreads opening it - surely something to do with what Jim got called out on, especially this early in the morning. 

It's Tiffany. A text. 

_You up? Jim called me for backup. Nothing major._

For the first time in his career, Robin ignores it. 

\-- 

"So what's up with it?" 

"Stolen," Tiffany says. Hal lands softly behind her and walks up. "There's DNA inside, hair and skin and fingerprints." 

"From the thieves?" He notes the green scorch marks on the windows, like the empty vial he gave Robin. 

"We're assuming so." Tiffany glances up at him. "Database says they're employees for a security agency. GCPD have put out an APB for them." 

"Night guards?" Hal raises an eyebrow. 

"For the dealership it was stolen from." 

"So they were coerced into it." 

"Most likely." Tiffany nods her head to the scorch marks. "It's the toxin." 

"So they hotboxed it?" 

"Looks like it. Maybe a test of some sort?" 

"That's not good." 

"Very not good." 

Hal approaches carefully, peering into one of the open doors of the car - the setup seems strange, with no occupants. The car itself is smashed against a streetlight, the hood crumpled and dented, glass shattered, but other than that, no evidence of what happened. The guards must have crashed it and left, but _why_? Were they transporting the vials? Was it an accident? 

"What if it was an accident?" Hal says. "They broke one of the vials and when it got them, they crashed?" 

"Could be," Tiffany allows. "The effects would definitely impair any driving ability." She frowns. "But why leave? And where did they go?" 

"Maybe they just panicked," Hal says, crouching down to look at the tyres. "Panicked and toxined and just ran off. How long ago did this happen?" 

"Roughly two hours," Tiffany replies, checking her watch. "GCPD got on the scene an hour after the crash. It wasn't phoned in when it happened; a patrol car spotted it and called it in." 

"So they could be anywhere." 

Tiffany nods. Hal stands up and walks around the car. The trunk is empty, and so is the back seat. So if they _were_ carrying anything, they took it with them. The only question is where they are - because if they weren't alone, then someone could have picked them up. Otherwise, Hal expects they'll find bodies within the next two weeks. It's a worrying possibility. 

"Is Robin checking traffic cameras?" 

Tiffany shakes her head. "He didn't come out." 

Hal frowns. "Didn't come out?" 

"To be fair, I only texted him," Tiffany says. "Since it was just a scene when the GCPD found it. Figured I didn't need to drag him out of bed." 

"But you'll drag me?" He teases. Tiffany laughs. 

"Not my fault you were checking texts at four a.m.," she says. "You could have skipped this." 

"And miss this incredibly frustrating and leadless development? Not for the world." 

"I knew I liked you for a reason." 

\-- 

Robin drags himself down to the Batcave later in the evening after a fitful and unpleasant nap. Tiffany's already left for the day, but she's left her usual list of notes for them to refer to tomorrow, slightly longer today because Robin didn't come in. Tiffany didn't press it after his eventual text saying he wasn't coming downstairs today, and he wonders if she's picked up on something. Which would probably be good, in any case. 

He's tired when he pulls up the footage of the incident earlier, but he scrolls through it dutifully. It feels good, doing something useful, ignoring the ache of his still-fading bruises and making little notes in the margins of Tiffany's list. At first, it seems to be standard car theft, but as the video progresses, Robin learns of the green scorch marks found on the inside of the windows. Just like the vials. 

"It's the toxin," Tiffany says on screen. Green appears in the peripheral. 

"So they hotboxed it?" 

Robin smiles a little at the sound of Hal's voice. Then frowns when he remembers all the unread texts Hal's sent him today. He should really reply to those. 

He glances at his phone on the desk. Looks back at the Batcomputer. He doesn't want to burden Hal with this. 

"Looks like it. Maybe a test of some sort?" 

"That's not good." 

"Very not good." 

Robin's phone buzzes. This time he checks the notification. 

_Dinner's ready_

Bruce. Robin sighs and picks up his phone to respond. He debates his answer. He'd love to, but...but he's been avoiding people all day. He's not sure he can speak without his voice cracking right now. He doesn't know _why_ it's hit so hard today - shock delay, he supposes, his mind prioritising physical recovery first, and now that he can sleep through the night without waking up to take painkillers halfway through, he gets the brunt of the nightmares. He fucking hates it. 

_> Not hungry _

_> Thanks though_

Three dots pop up and disappear. Pop up. Disappear. 

Yeah, Robin doesn't know what to say either. 

He spends the next hour compiling the data from this morning - Tiffany's mask, GCPD reports, evidence pictures, scan analyses - and cleaning it all up in a presentable file for Tiffany to look over the next day and forward on to Jim. It's easy work, but not distracting enough. And when he finally shuts off the Batcomputer for the night, he dreads going back upstairs. He knows, somehow, that he won't be able to sleep tonight either. At least not at the manor. 

In a moment of weakness, he texts Hal. 

_> Can I stay over?_

This time, the three dots make him incredibly nervous. 

_Yeah, of course_

Robin sighs in relief. 

\-- 

Rain pelts miserably against Hal's window. He frowns at it and switches his TV over to Netflix to try and find something to watch. He checks his phone - Robin read but never replied to any of his earlier texts. Hal knows he wasn't there this morning, at the GCPD call; Tiffany called Hal about it after she went to the crime scene, but didn't mention Robin. Hal can't help but worry, even though he knows it's probably nothing major. Probably just busy with their cases, probably hasn't had time to reply. Hal can't blame him; there's probably mounds of forensics to pore over after their discovery of Jonathan Crane's secret basement. Hal still shudders when he thinks about it. 

The knock on his door startles him out of his thoughts. He pushes himself up off the sofa to answer it and finds Robin out there in a hooded red coat, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He's smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It worries Hal. 

"I thought you weren't supposed to be walking around the city," Hal says, tries to inject levity into his voice. 

"I can't stay grounded forever," Robin replies, but his joking tone falls flat. Hal shuts the door behind him and watches carefully as Robin hangs up his coat and takes off his boots. "Sorry about the short notice." 

"It's fine," Hal assures him, and doesn't know what to do with his hands. So he leads them to the sofa instead, sitting down a careful distance from Robin. "You okay?" 

He itches to touch Robin, to put an arm around his shoulders, but it feels...awkward now, like he'd be crossing a boundary he didn't even know Robin had. Instead, he curls his hand into a fist on his thigh and waits for Robin's lead. He sits perched on the edge of the sofa, like he's not sure what to do. He rests his elbows on his knees. Fidgets with his fingers. 

"It's - I can't...sleep," Robin explains, finally sinking into the cushions. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. His breath hitches. "God, I shouldn't have come. Fuck, I'm sorry - " he makes to stand up, but Hal gently grabs his wrist to stop him. Robin sits down again. He looks so suddenly, profoundly sad that Hal's heart breaks a little. 

"What's wrong?" He asks quietly. Scoots tentatively closer. 

"It's stupid," Robin says. "It's - I just - I _can't sleep_." He frowns. Presses a hand to his eyes again. "I have nightmares, Hal. The boat - " 

Hal knows what he means. He remembers his first collateral damage - the word tastes foul just in thought. Without thinking, he does put that arm around Robin's shoulders - to his surprise, Robin leans heavily against him. 

"I couldn't save them," Robin whispers. Hal tugs him a little closer. 

"You did what you could," he says. "You didn't know they rigged it, Robin." 

"I _know_ ," Robin says, but he's not frustrated at Hal. "I _know_ that but I can't - I can't stop _seeing_ it." His next inhale shudders. His stubbly cheek scrapes against Hal's. 

"I just want to sleep," he says, quiet and broken. He reaches up to roughly wipe his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hal, I didn't mean to - " 

"Shut up," Hal murmurs. "I want to help you. I think about it too." 

And that seems to be enough for Robin. He stays. They talk late into the night. Hal's TV turns off automatically. The rain lessens. Red-eye flights roar overhead. 

And by the end of it, hours later, Robin's asleep on the sofa. Hal doesn't have the heart to move him, so he falls asleep right next to him. 

\-- 

Robin walks into the Batcave at noon the next day, and sort of vaguely hopes he won't run into Tiffany, but he knows it's somewhat inevitable. 

"Hey!" She greets, grinning at him. "You're late." 

"I was at Hal's," he says, and smiles at the playful look she gives him. 

"You stayed over?" She teases. Robin ducks his head. Last night did help a lot - both talking and listening to Hal, sharing experiences, just _being_ there with him. It's only highlighted Robin's appreciation of him. So he stayed over. And made breakfast as a silent _thank you_ this morning. 

"I didn't do this to you when you stayed over at _Darren's_ last week." 

He gives her a one-armed hug and she hugs back surprisingly tightly - Robin doesn't even complain about his ribs as he presses his cheek to her hair. 

"Thanks for taking care of me," he murmurs. "After the boat." 

"Of course," Tiffany replies. She squeezes him gently. "It scared me. The - how you were injured."

"I know." Robin closes his eyes. He knows about Tiffany's father. "But I'm glad it was you there with me." 

"Me too," Tiffany whispers. When she pulls away, her eyes are shining a little. Robin shrugs off his backpack and pulls out the brown bag inside. 

"I made subs," he offers. "Lunch break?" 

"Definitely." Tiffany clears her worktable with an impressive sweep of her arm and hooks a stool with her ankle to spin it over to Robin. 

Lunch takes roughly an hour - longer than usual, but neither of them mind. Robin tells her about his guilt over the guards, she talks about hers, and when the sandwich wrappers are balled up and stashed back in the bags, they've aired out the personal side of the boat incident between them. It feels _good_. Like it's made them closer as a team, and Robin doesn't feel nearly as awkward as he'd feared when they get back to work, splitting discussing new design blueprints and working on the Crane case. The forensics alone is a nightmare, and the amount of legwork they'll need to put in to even _try_ to find a lead is obscene, but Robin thinks they can do it. 

After all, they're Stormcloud and Nightwing. 


	7. Chapter 7

The scent of freshly brewed coffee makes the whole café smell pleasant, almost addicting, a sweeter, more sugary scent trailing afterwards when the baker pulls out a new tray of pastries to restock the glass cabinets. Freshly made in the back, and still warm from the oven - one of the perks of Jukebox, the in-house pastry chef. 

The second perk is currently sneaking glances over to their table while arranging drinks on a tray. 

"I think you have an admirer," Robin teases, idly wiggling his pencil between his fingers. Tiffany shoots him a glare then glances over her shoulder at Darren, lifting her hand in a little wave across the café. Darren waves back and picks up their tray. 

"Jukebox has good coffee," she says, turning back to their work. 

"And a great view," Robin adds. "So I've heard." 

Tiffany smiles at that, a laugh tumbling out of her. 

"I don't give you shit when we're working with _Hal_ ," she replies, raising an eyebrow. 

"This is different," Robin says, grinning smugly at her as he watches Darren putting together another order. Two drinks and two sandwiches. 

Darren walks over to them just as Tiffany spins her tablet to show Robin some case files. He calmly locks the screen so Darren can't see and smiles politely at them, shuffling papers aside so they can set the drinks and plates down. 

"Here you go, guys," Darren says, flashing Robin a friendly smile and Tiffany a softer one. Robin checks his phone to let them have a quiet moment while Darren pushes their crockery towards them, tucking the tray under their arm afterwards. 

"Hope you like your surprise, Robin," they say, grinning toothily at him. Robin tugs his mug closer and sniffs at the foam on top, crinkling up his nose as he tries to sort through the flavours. Coffee, milk - and _oh_ , that's interesting. 

"Is that new?" He asks, sniffing again at the distinct pumpkin spice. 

"Just got it in," Darren confirms. They wink at him. "It's not on the menu yet." 

"Your secret is safe with me," Robin whispers, and giggles with them. Darren turns to Tiffany and Robin picks up a stirrer to disturb his foam. 

"You look good today," Darren tells Tiffany. Robin politely unlocks his phone again. 

"You say that every day," Tiffany replies, brushing hair behind her ear. She's grinning, so wide that Robin can see it even out of the corner of his eye, and he would feel embarrassed if this wasn't already a regular occurrence whenever they went to Jukebox. 

"It's true," Darren says with an easy shrug. Their hand creeps over to Tiffany's on the table, stealing moments where they can. The café's quiet today, so Robin knows they can afford an extra thirty seconds or so to chat. 

"You're not looking too bad yourself." 

"I'm at _work_. I look like a minimum wage employee." 

"You look beautiful," Tiffany breathes, resting her chin on her hand and gazing fondly up at them. Darren shifts in their spot. Tiffany lifts their hand to brush her lips over the knuckles, and Darren laughs quietly. 

"We still on for tonight?" Tiffany asks. 

"Still a surprise?" They ask. Tiffany nods decisively and lets go of Darren's hand. 

"Wear something comfortable," she says, and Darren leaves with another little goodbye wave. 

"So, where are you taking them?" Robin asks, locking his phone again and looking up at Tiffany. 

"Bowling," Tiffany answers, smiling down at her coffee. Robin grins at the heart decal decorating her foam. Honestly, they're just too fucking cute together. 

"Sounds fun." Robin pulls his plate over and turns the tablet on again. He cocks an eyebrow. "Going anywhere else? Maybe afterwards?" 

"I don't quiz you like this," Tiffany protests, but she's flushing tellingly. 

"You definitely do," Robin says. "You have done so _multiple_ times." 

"All right, we _might_ be going back to my place," she admits, scribbling something in the margins of her notes. "If he wants to." 

Robin glances across the café to Darren. They're mixing drinks at one of the big metal machines, and laughing with a coworker - and then they glance over their shoulder towards Robin and Tiffany's table, and their eyes linger for a second longer than just an attentive barista. 

"I think it's a yes," Robin says to Tiffany, and bites into his sandwich. 

They work through lunch, trading papers and notes and the tablet in order to draw up what they know so far about whatever this toxin is. They managed to synthesise an antidote last weekend - ironically, Robin being out of field commission meant that he could dedicate more time to the non-physical parts of the job, and he'd worked through the weekend to finish it off. The only problem is, their antidote is only theory. They have no toxin to test it on, and no detained suspects to ask to try it out on. Theoretically, it should be able to reverse the toxin's effects even two weeks later, so they _should_ be able to save any other suspects that get brought in, but with no new cases and no new leads, they just have to run on hope for now. 

Either way, they've ordered a huge shipment of the antidote from Wayne Labs' manufacturer to arrive within the next week, with loads of vials and syringes just in case. Hopefully they won't have to use it, but if there's something sinister brewing underneath the GCPD, then better safe than sorry. 

Tiffany gets them dessert afterwards from the fresh pastry case, stops to flirt with Darren while she pays, and tosses a warm bag of croissant triumphantly at Robin's face. It smacks him in the nose and he catches it with a surprised laugh, sliding the tablet out of his way to put it down. He flips her off, just because he can. 

Seconds later, Tiffany pulls a couple cookies out from her bag, and frowns, and reaches back in to pull out a third cookie. 

"I didn't pay for - " she starts, and then glances back at Darren, and then _realises_ , and Robin laughs so hard he almost fractures his rib all over again. 

\-- 

It's been a quiet Saturday for Robin, mostly spent goading Hal into playing something online with him and then regretting it when Hal inevitably fucks them over. He's got plans with his Coast Guard buddies tomorrow for a surfing spree - he can't participate, but he can still catch a ride to the beach and rip the shit out of the bad surfers on the team. And maybe bring lunch. And money so he can bet against Tim when it inevitably gets competitive. 

His phone buzzes. 

_I'm ready_

_> coming down_

Robin turns off his game and starts heading downstairs, down the ridiculous main staircase. The manor is quiet in the evenings, so his footsteps are unduly loud against the marble when he gets to the bottom and turns to get to the kitchen at the back. To his surprise, Bruce emerges from one of the parlour rooms as he passes, dressed to the nines but looking intently at his phone. Robin thought he had left already for his investors' dinner. 

"Bruce," he says, stopping them both in their tracks. Bruce raises an eyebrow. Robin shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

"What's up, Robin?" 

"I, uh, I think I will take that list," he says. "Of therapists." 

The worry line between Bruce's eyebrows smooths out with his gentle smile. 

"Of course," he says. "I'll email it to you?" 

"I don't know if I'll do it," Robin blurts out. Bruce doesn't need to know this, but Robin wants to be transparent with him. "But...it would probably be good to have." 

Bruce reaches up to squeeze his arm. "Whatever works for you." He glances at the back of the manor, where Robin was heading. "What are you up to?" 

"I've roped Jim into teaching me how to cook," Robin says. Bruce chuckles. 

"You already know how to cook," he points out. 

"Then he's on hand to make sure I don't fuck this one up." 

Bruce laughs, but his phone _tinks_ and when he looks back down, the worry line is back. He sighs. 

"Well, have a nice night, Robin," he says. "I've got to get to this dinner." 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah." Bruce pockets his phone. "Just Iman telling me some of the new sponsor requirements for the hospital." 

"They want it named after them?" Robin guesses. 

"I'm not giving them an inch," Bruce says. "They volunteered to help, they deal with that." 

"Give them hell," Robin agrees, and shares another laugh with Bruce before he leaves, his dress shoes tapping sharply against marble. Robin continues to the kitchen. 

"All right, kid, what the hell am I here for?" Jim asks the moment Robin appears, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. There's an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and the screen door to the patio is open. 

"Don't act like I'm interrupting your plans to sit and read the newspaper, grandpa," Robin teases, tugging ingredients out of the cupboards. Jim's eyebrows shoot into his hairline at the new insult. Robin stifles a giggle. Jim's lips twitch upwards. 

"I can and will frame you for murder," he threatens. "I'm not retired yet." 

"Still a couple of years off?" 

"Try fifteen, you little brat." Jim turns to look at all boxes and packets Robin's put on the counter. Then Robin notices something glint in the light. Something _gold_. 

"Holy shit," he says, staring openly at Jim's left hand. He grins. "Congrats, Commish. When'd _that_ happen?" 

Jim grumbles half-heartedly and rubs the back of his neck. "Last night." 

Robin leans against the counter. "Okay, who asked?" 

"That's none of your business," Jim says, but there's a smile threatening to curve the corners of his mouth. 

"Because I had money on you," Robin adds. The smile breaks out in full force now, followed by laughter as the blush on Jim's cheeks starts to fade. 

"All right, I did," he admits. He jerks his chin to the boxes on the counter. "What're you making?" 

Robin shuts the cupboard. "Thai peanut noodles. From scratch." 

"Thai? Why the hell did you ask me? Do I look like a Thai expert?" 

"No," Robin says. "But you _do_ cook a lot from scratch, so I was hoping you could help?" 

Despite his previous protest, Jim nods, pushing off of the counter to let Robin get at the drawers. He sets his cane against the fridge and watches calmly while Robin pulls out the utensils he needs. 

"So why the sudden interest in scratch cooking?" Jim asks. Robin is suddenly glad he's facing away from him - his cheeks heat. 

"It's for a friend," he says, hopefully casually. Unfortunately for him, Jim is a trained detective. 

"A friend, huh?" 

"What, a guy can't do nice things for his friends?" Robin shuts the drawer with his hip and loads up a recipe on his phone. Jim chuckles warmly and steps up beside him, glancing at the screen and idly sorting ingredients into prep groups while Robin peers intently at the instructions. 

"Y'know, Bruce learnt how to cook fajitas for me," Jim says. "From scratch, as well. Surprised me with it a few months in." Robin knows. He helped Bruce with those. 

But he doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say in response. Doesn't know if he's admitted it to himself yet. 

Jim, thankfully, doesn't press the issue. He moves on easily from the heavy stuff. 

"Anyway, bring your friend over for dinner. And get Tiffany to bring her boy over, too, or whoever's stealing her Saturday nights now," Jim adds, tapping a measuring cup with his finger to even it out. 

"Not a boy," Robin corrects. "Non-binary. And you think I'm subjecting Hal to two hours of you?" 

"And this is why I keep telling you two to bring people over, so I can fucking learn things about them." 

Then, Jim grins wickedly. Robin swallows. He fucked up. He's hasn't mentioned Hal's _name_ around Jim or Bruce yet. 

" _Hal_?" 

"Don't tell Bruce," Robin threatens. "I'll frame _you_ for murder." 

Jim laughs. "Your secret's safe with me." Then, after a pause to switch ingredients, "So, tell me about this Hal." 

Robin glances at Jim. "Promise you won't tell Bruce?" 

"Cross my heart, kid." 

Robin ducks his head with a smile. And talks. 

(Without mentioning the whole _Green Lantern vigilante_ thing. Jim knows too much already.) 

\-- 

"Robin? What's up?" Hal cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder as he finishes putting his folded clothes away, nudging open a drawer with his foot. Sure, midnight's a bit late to be finally putting his laundry away, but hey, he lives alone, time has no meaning. 

"Hal, hey," Robin says, but his voice sounds thicker than normal. A touch deeper, as well. 

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" A tinge of worry seeps into his voice. Robin huffs out a humourless laugh. 

"I'm fine, I'm not hurt," he says. Fabric rustles on his end. Hal folds another shirt in the long silence that passes. 

"I'm - wow, I can't believe I'm doing this," Robin mutters. 

"Doing what?" Hal closes his drawer and sits down on the edge of his bed. 

"Well, with the rib," Robin starts. "I can't - strain it." He sighs, defeated. "I can't jack off, Hal." 

"Are you actually doing a booty call?" Hal asks, both amused and disbelieving. But the ripple of heat up his spine betrays him. 

"Shut up." Robin shifts again on the other end. "I just - thought that if you were free, maybe...maybe calling you would help. Make it - easier." 

"Easier?" Hal shuffles backwards on his bed so he's leaning against the headboard. He grins. "Flattering." 

"Just say yes or no." 

"Are you touching yourself?" 

"You don't start slow, do you?" 

"Just say yes or no," Hal teases back. Robin's breath stutters. 

"Not yet," he admits. "I'm not _that_ much of a creep." 

Hal laughs softly. He can hear Robin's smile when he next speaks. 

"I am now, though." And as if to prove the point, his inhale shudders. Hal presses a palm to himself, grinding the zipper of his jeans down. Vague fantasies flash through his head, overrun by stark images of what Robin must look like. In bed, probably pyjamas, definitely hot. But Hal trips up on the details - what colour are Robin's sheets? Does he have the light on? What kind of bed does he have? - and realises a moment later neither of them have spoken for a minute. 

"I don't know what to say," Hal admits - Robin chuckles breathlessly. 

"Me neither," he says. And then spit out a sharp curse. " _Fuck_ , that hurts." 

"Robin?" 

Robin groans quietly, pained. Hal hears his head thump to the pillow. 

"Ow," he pants. "This is so _frustrating_." 

Hal debates his answer for an entire half-second. 

"Come over," he says. Robin laughs again. 

"Now?" 

"Yeah, now." Hal shrugs. "I'm not doing anything else." 

All he hears is the sound of Robin's breathing while he considers it. 

"Okay," he says. "Fuck it, okay, this is the stupidest thing I've ever done." And hangs up. Hal chuckles to his empty bedroom and sets the phone aside. But he's anything _but_ relaxed now, giddy with nerves - seeing Robin in-person for the first time in _three_ weeks, and it's for a _booty call_ , of all reasons. (He doesn't count the last time Robin came over. That was different.) 

Restless, he gets up to brush his teeth and get out a set of towels for Robin - if he's coming over this late, chances are high he'll end up staying over again. Hal also digs out a spare set of pyjamas and an unopened toothbrush and bundles it all together in a neat pile on the shelf beside the sink. 

The knock at his door comes sooner than expected. Hal feels unexpectedly light on his feet when he goes to open it, and is met with a smiling Robin. 

"Hey," he says, opening the door wider for Robin to come in. The taxi behind him drives off. Hal locks the door. 

"Hey," Robin answers, and drops his backpack to lean in and kiss Hal - Hal can't stop the quiet noise that escapes him, sinking easily into the warm familiarity of Robin's lips - he runs his hand over Robin's cheek, down his arm, reacquainting himself with angles he never forgot. Robin sighs and reaches up to bury his hands in Hal's hair, then winces, drops his hand back down to Hal's hip. Hal immediately stops. The difference between _knowing_ Robin is injured and _feeling_ it is vast. 

"Robin, you're injured," Hal murmurs against his lips, but his hands _ache_ to touch. 

"I haven't been able to jack off for three weeks, Hal." Robin's fingers curl in his shirt. "I can't stop thinking about you." 

Hal exhales shakily. "Robin." 

Robin rubs circles into Hal's hip. 

"I'm sure," he says, opening his eyes to meet Hal's. Hal's thin thread of restraint snaps like a guitar cord. 

"What's best?" He asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Robin's sweats. 

"On my back." And this time Hal's the one that leans in for a kiss, gently walking them backwards to his bedroom - Robin follows easily, if a little clumsily, pausing along the way for hot kisses to Hal's neck, his jaw. Hal shivers at each one. 

Eventually, they make it to the bed, and separate long enough for Robin to lay down on it, tugging a pillow under his head - when he beckons, Hal doesn't hesitate to clamber on over him, careful to not touch his torso. Robin pants against his mouth, already keyed up and handsy, wandering across Hal's back and sides - wherever Robin can reach without pulling on his ribs. Hal moans softly into the kiss and breaks it to kiss down Robin's throat. Foreplay isn't much of a demand, this time. So when Robin pulls a knee up for Hal to grind against, he does so eagerly, burying his head in Robin's shoulder as the first foreign touch in _weeks_ rattles through his whole system. 

"H-Hey, this is about you," he pants, hands fisting in the bedsheets. Fuck, he'd let Robin do _anything_ to him. 

"Just having a little fun," Robin replies, but his voice is thick and rough - Hal pulls away to start tugging down Robin's sweats, shivering a little at the loss of pressure on his cock. The waistband just reveals more tempting skin. 

"No underwear?" Hal teases breathlessly, all the air gut-punched out of him. Robin flushes. 

"Didn't want to waste time finding any," he replies, and helps Hal kick the sweats off onto the floor. Hal kneels between his legs and runs his hands up Robin's thighs, rubbing the little hairs there the wrong way. Robin shivers, his dick visibly twitching between Hal's hands. 

Hal licks his fingers and touches them to Robin - and all at once, he can see the cause-and-effect. Robin's abs crunch up, hips automatically rocking, and then he grits his teeth and gasps through them, reflexively pressing a hand to his chest. 

"Stop being impatient," Hal says, splaying a gentle hand over Robin's ribs. He uses his other hand to support his weight when he leans over to kiss Robin. Teeth scrape over Hal's lower lip. 

"Three weeks," Robin reminds him. His pupils are dilated when Hal withdraws. 

"Let me do it," Hal says, skating his hand down from Robin's chest to brush a thumb over his cock again - this time, Robin doesn't shudder, but he does whine a little. Fuck, he's _hot_ when he's desperate. Hal's missed this - flirting over comms is _nothing_ compared to Robin under him, hands in Hal's hair and rucking up his shirt, trying to dip under his waistband. 

"Stop teasing," Robin grunts. "Hal, _please_ \- " and when his fingers scrabble at Hal's button, Hal can't do anything but nod helplessly. He doesn't waste more time trying to rile Robin up - Robin's already worked up enough, hand fisting in Hal's hair when Hal starts jacking him off properly, with the firm little circles he knows Robin likes. 

An hour ago, Hal was doing his laundry. Now he's grinding raggedly against Robin's palm and kissing messily down his throat while his forearm presses steadily against Robin, trying to match the pace spelled out with abrupt aborted jerks of his hips. Hal can hear him suck in a small, pained breath, and knocks Robin's hand away from himself so he can settle more fully between Robin's legs, trailing kisses down his body. Unable to comfortably reach his hair from here, Robin's fingers slip away to grip the sheets instead. 

"Hal, what - _oh_ ," Robin moans, screwing his eyes shut. 

"Can I?" Hal asks, his breath puffing out over Robin's dick. It twitches. 

"I'm not gonna last," Robin warns. Hal shrugs, forcibly casual. 

"Good," he says simply, and licks a bold stripe up the underside. Robin curses. 

Hal rests his forearm partially across Robin's hips and splays a hand over his abdomen - not pressing, just holding, a gentle reminder not to move as he swirls his tongue in a slow circle. Spit gathers under his tongue, barely swallowed back when he starts bobbing, sucking hard on the slide up and wiggling his tongue on the down. Robin seems to consciously relax himself, no longer tensing up and trying to chase his orgasm, more content to let it come to him - Hal hums to him a vibration, and Robin pants loudly. His fingers curl in the sheets. Hal grinds his own hips against the mattress, closing his eyes at the shudder that runs through him - Robin groans softly and flings an arm over his face. Without a hand in Hal's hair, and unable to rock up, he's only left with words. 

"F-Faster," he pants, and Hal watches his embarrassed flush spill down his neck. "Please." 

Hal _happily_ obliges, digging the fingers of his other hand into Robin's trembling thigh. Robin cries out, thumping his fist against the bed when Hal presses down with his forearm, pinning him more firmly in place - a trick that Robin likes to use on him. It's one of Hal's favourites of Robin's tricks - well, that and the liberal use of rolling condoms on with his mouth, which makes Hal's knees _weak_. But this way around, the pinning only seems to spur Robin on, Hal's name slipping from him in desperate panting as Hal blows him. Hal pops off briefly to relieve the sudden ache in his jaw and rubs Robin with spit-soaked fingers, earning himself another suppressed shudder and a loud moan. 

Hal rolls his jaw around and replaces his hand with mouth once more, sealing his lips around Robin for a particularly hard suck and following it with pointed strokes of his tongue up the underside, flattened over the head, strong and wet - Robin's trembling worsens under Hal's fingertips, and Hal can feel the forced relaxation of his legs either side of him, knees unlocking and muscle loosening as he tries to avoid any strain. His abs don't do much more than twitch under Hal's palm. 

"'M gonna - Hal - _shit_ ," Robin breaks off with a whine that goes straight to Hal's cock - he moans involuntarily around Robin, and Robin suddenly gasps and comes, shaking almost imperceptibly and arching slightly under Hal. But there's no pain in his next hurried inhale, and he spits it out with an approximation of Hal's name, lifting his arm so he can look down at him - Hal doesn't let up on Robin until Robin's thighs give up their tremble, going still against the bed. Hal kisses Robin's dick and looks up at him. 

"You want another?" He asks, ragged. 

"Want you first," Robin says, chest heaving. "C'mere." 

Hal immediately climbs back up Robin's body, kissing him fiercely and giving himself over to the hot thrill driving up his spine, forcing his hips to buck forward, moaning at the feel of Robin desperately undoing his jeans. He gets a hand around Hal and Hal has to break the kiss to bury his head in Robin's neck. It doesn't muffle his pathetic whimper. His cock _throbs_ against Robin's palm. Fuck, he's missed this. 

"Fuck," Robin breathes, smearing slick down the shaft. He urges Hal's hips a little lower, and Hal's way too out of his senses to argue, so when the wet head of his dick touches something similarly soft and wet, it sends a whole new electric shiver through him. He lifts his head enough to look between them, where Robin's pressing their cocks together, and back up to Robin, who's smirking despite the red flush on his cheeks. 

"Robin?" Is all Hal can really get out, and shudders when Robin brushes them together again. Hal feels himself leak embarrassingly onto Robin's dick. Robin bites back a noise. 

" _Shit_ ," Hal breathes. " _Fuck_ , that's hot." 

Robin nods and kisses him, rolling Hal's hips for him with a little tug - it takes a second for them to fall into a comfortable rhythm, but Robin keeps his fist loose for Hal to fuck into and to roughly aim him in the right direction, and Hal moans every time the undersides of their cocks rub together. It's hotter than it has any right to be, and Hal props himself up on his elbows to watch, whimpering a little when he sees his slick roll down onto Robin again, making the slide wetter. Robin's breath puffs out against his cheek in soft pants, and Hal starts rocking harder against him, grinding down to make Robin's breath hitch. Robin _squeezes_ and drags his fingers through Hal's slick again, whispers a little _c'mon_ in Hal's ear, and Hal's suddenly rocketed to the edge, burying a whimper against Robin's collarbone. 

"Mm - _mm_ , w-wait, can - " Hal sucks in a shaky breath and the next wet slide against the head of his dick almost makes him lose whatever tenuous grasp he has on control. " _Robin_ , 'm gonna come, fuck, wait, is - can I - " 

Robin huffs out a confused little breath, and Hal can feel him trembling slightly again, close. 

"Hal?" 

Hal thunks his forehead into the divot above Robin's collarbone. "Is it - _fuck_ \- I dunno, safe?" 

Robin laughs when he gets Hal's meaning, smiling against his cheek. 

"Don't worry, I can't get pregnant," he says. "They took all that out years ago. You can come where you like." 

" _Fuck_ ," Hal spits, and does not make it past the next hard grind before he comes, hips jerking forward roughly, Robin's name tugged from him in a ragged moan. And just because he's apparently a glutton for punishment, he glances down just to see come spurt onto Robin's cock, white over flushed pink. The sight's almost enough to make him come again, and for a desperate second he wishes he _could_. 

Then Robin slides his fist down to run his fingers through the mess on his dick and Hal barely has a chance to tell him off for tensing up under him before Robin's coming again, knuckles grinding down filthy and his groan bolting through Hal like a rake over hot coals. It's more than electrifying. Hal scoots up a little and nudges Robin's fingers aside to replace them with his own, grinding his thumb against Robin's dick to work out all the shivery aftershocks trembling through him. 

Robin hooks an arm around Hal's neck and kisses him with a contented moan, his panting slowing as he catches his breath, minuscule shudders still shaking through him from Hal's touch. When they gradually peter out, Robin gently bats Hal's hand away - Hal tucks himself back in so he's more comfortable, and settles fully on his elbows to enjoy the lazy kissing. He hums at the hand that rucks up his shirt to skate up and down his bare side, Robin's fingers leaving a trail of pleasant goosebumps in their wake. Hal missed this - he missed _all_ of it, but he's fond of the afterwards with Robin. The soft kisses, the warm touches, the _ease_ of it. Like it's more than just whatever friends-with-benefits thing they're doing. 

Eventually, though, they have to pull apart. Hal rolls off to give his arms a break from holding himself up, groaning at the relief of the soft mattress. Robin laughs next to him. Hal closes his eyes. 

"I don't think I've ever done a booty call before," Hal says. Robin's shoulder shakes against his. 

"I have," he replies. "Couple times." 

"Robin _Richard_ ," Hal gasps dramatically. Robin slaps his thigh. 

"It was in college," he adds. Shrugs. "You never called someone back?" 

"Didn't have much time for getting to know people in the academy," Hal admits. "Even less when I picked up the ring. It's mostly one-night stands." 

Robin hums in acknowledgement. Hal opens his eyes enough to see Robin idly poking at his ribs. 

"Do they hurt?" 

"A little." Robin stops touching them. "Worth it, though." 

Hal laughs, resting his forearm over his eyes. "Glad I could help." 

They rest in silence for a few minutes more, until sirens streak past a few roads over. 

"Guess I should go back," Robin sighs. Hal shifts his arm enough to peek out from under it. Robin pushes himself up on his elbows, wincing minutely. 

"You never stayed over in college?" Hal asks. Robin looks at him. 

"Did you?" He counters. Hal runs his tongue over his teeth. No, he didn't. He was always out by dawn. 

"I've got clothes for you in the bathroom," he says. "Stay over." 

Robin doesn't speak for a long second. Hal counts heartbeats in the silence. 

"Okay," Robin says quietly. Like if he speaks too loud it'll shatter something. Hal knows the feeling. 

"You can shower first," Hal murmurs, covering his eyes again. Robin slides silently off the bed and walks around, but his footsteps stop by Hal's head. Fingers touch his wrist. 

"Join me," he says, and he sounds like he's smiling. Hal removes his arm to look up at him. Robin looks unfairly handsome in his bedroom light, hair a tousled mess, a warm but still mischievous smile tugging at his lips. Hal can never resist that smile. 

"Right behind you." 


	8. Chapter 8

Robin sneaks over to Hal's with a bulging grocery bag under one arm - okay, it's not really sneaking if they've already agreed on having dinner at Hal's that night, and not if Robin's using the extra key Hal gave him to get in, but it feels a bit sneaky to arrive two hours earlier just to make sure he has enough time to make his newest dish. 

It feels weird, entering Hal's place without him there as well. He's busy with Tiffany with a potential toxin lead, but he'd told Robin to come over whenever. So here Robin is, setting up ingredients for peanut noodles across Hal's counter and fishing out his pots and bowls. He puts on music while he cooks, and ignores how oddly _domestic_ it feels to be alone here, making dinner from scratch for Hal, being comfortable enough to know where everything is in the kitchen - and bathroom, and bedroom when Robin needs to find a phone charger. 

When the front door opens again, Robin's got two covered bowls of noodles ready at the table, casually scrolling his phone as if he wasn't frantically trying to finish washing the dishes ten minutes ago. 

"Well, that's a nice surprise," Hal says, shrugging his jacket off. "But you could've waited for me." 

"I don't mind," Robin replies, looking up at him with a smile. Hal glances behind him. 

"And you definitely didn't have to do dishes," he adds. Robin shrugs one shoulder. Hal drops his phone on the kitchen table and pauses beside Robin. For a long, heart-stopping second, Robin thinks he's about to kiss him. 

But he doesn't. 

"I'll go shower," Hal says with a grin and taps his nails against the wood once before leaving. "You can start without me." 

Robin waits the extra fifteen minutes, and when Hal returns with wet hair and clean clothes, Robin kicks out the chair opposite him. Hal sits down with a chuckle. 

"Thanks for dinner," he says, taking the plate off of the top his bowl. Steam rises. "Holy shit, this is my _favourite_." 

"Might wanna try it first," Robin says, forcibly evenly. 

He's practised the dish a couple times since the first time with Jim, and it's gone down well with the manor residents, but they're not who he's trying to - what? Impress? Robin stamps down the nervous flutter in his chest and picks up his chopsticks. 

When he looks up again, Hal's already shoving noodles into his mouth. Robin laughs at the sight. 

" _Oh_ yeah," Hal moans when he's worked through the first bite. "This is _good_." 

Then he frowns a little. "This isn't the takeout place. Did you make this?" He asks. Robin twirls his chopsticks. 

"Yeah." Robin grins. "From scratch." 

"And I didn't even have to suck your dick?" 

Robin chokes on his laugh, reaching for his water as Hal chuckles. 

"I wouldn't complain," he says, rubbing his foot against Hal's ankle. Hal's smile turns wicked. 

"I can think of a few ways to thank you."

"You've been back for what, twenty minutes, and you're already hitting on me?" 

"You're right, I should've started sooner." 

"Nice to see you, too, Hal, yeah, I've had a good day, how was yours?" 

Hal laughs but doesn't answer around his noodles. Robin takes the chance to have some of his own, too - he doesn't want to brag, but they _are_ delicious. He should get Jim something as thanks. Maybe scotch. Or one of those history biographies he likes - although which one doesn't he own yet? Bruce might know - 

"Earth to Robin," Hal says, waving a hand in front of his face. Robin blinks. 

"Oh, sorry, I was - just thinking. What did you say?" 

"I said I should return the favour someday," he says. "Cook you dinner from scratch." 

"You have before," Robin points out. "You make Thai from scratch all the time." 

"Yeah, but I should do something _you_ love," Hal says. "Like burgers or something." 

"You don't have a grill." _But I do_. The rest of the sentence gets stuck on Robin's tongue. 

Hal shrugs. "I have an oven." 

"I have a grill," Robin says. Lets his meaning fall flat in the space between their bowls. It's probably a ridiculous way to signal to Hal that he wants to let him even _more_ into his life. Hal seems to choose his next words carefully. 

"I don't have a key," he says. He's giving him an out. Robin licks his lips. 

"I can arrange something," he replies. Hal looks surprised. 

"Robin, you don't have to - if you don't want, I don't mind - " 

"Hal," Robin says gently. "I want to." 

"What about your roommates? Do they know who you are?" 

Robin huffs out a laugh. "I'm...going to have to explain some things to you first." 

"Like what?" 

"I...live...in Wayne Manor." 

Hal chokes on his noodle. Gasps for air and chokes again, thumps his chest - hurriedly grabs his water and chugs it. Coughs raggedly. Gasps again. 

"You live _where_?" He wheezes. 

"Wayne Manor," Robin repeats. Shifts a little in his seat. "I, uh, I rent a room there. Mr. Wayne was listing it a few months ago." 

To his surprise, Hal nods. "Okay." And doesn't call him out on a blatant lie - why would Bruce need tenants? But Robin doesn't push it - he doesn't want to freak Hal out with anything. 

"And, uh, they - they know who I am. I haven't told them about you, though." 

Hal is shockingly calm. He nods and picks up more noodles with his chopsticks. "So...when were you thinking?" 

"Next weekend?" Robin suggests. 

"It's your Coast Guard weekend." 

"They're doing boat training, so I can't tag along anyway." Robin shrugs. Hal smiles at him. 

"Next Saturday, then?" He asks. 

"I'll pick you up." 

With that agreed - and with Robin's nerves fizzling in anticipation already - dinner passes with more exaggerated moaning from Hal, but also with conversation as their feet tangle under the sofa, the night deepening outside. Stacked plates leads to a drink and video games - well, to Hal popping open a bottle of beer because Robin's still on painkillers, but when laughter turns to wandering hands turns to insistent, promising kisses, Robin can still catch the aftertaste on Hal's teeth. 

So all in all, he counts his noodles as a success. 

\-- 

_> hows rescue _

_[Jason] we've replaced you_

Jason attaches a photo of a CPR mannequin with a life vest on it - Tim and Cass are posing with their arms around its shoulders, smiling at the camera. Robin laughs out loud. 

_[Babs] and he's hotter_

_> fuck you babs _

_[Babs] you wish_

_[Tim] get a room_

_> you get a room _

_[Tim] real mature, Grayson_

_[Steph] we've named it CPRobin_

_[Jason] fuck if I'm giving that thing CPR_

Hal's front door opens and Robin pockets his phone to leave the group chat to its chaos, pushing off of his bike to greet Hal, who looks...remarkably cleaned up for just visiting the manor. He's wearing his usual flight jacket, with the cracked creases and the broken zip. 

"Did you gel your hair?" Robin asks, running his fingers over it. Pink dusts Hal's cheeks. 

"No," he lies. Then, "Hey, it's not every day you go to _Wayne Manor_." 

"It is for me," Robin says, and laughs at Hal's eye roll. Hal swings his small duffel up between them. 

"You got storage for this?" 

"Yeah." Robin takes it and pops open a compartment on the back of the bike to stuff it in - the bike's armour plates have flipped to hide the blue markings on it, so it looks more civilian, and he took out some of the gadgets to make it lighter. And, helpfully, roomier. He unclips a spare helmet from the backseat and tosses it to Hal, who catches it easily. 

"Civilian mode, huh?" Hal asks as he swings a leg over the bike. 

"Maybe I have a second bike," Robin teases. Hal chuckles. 

"I think I'd recognise the bike I was bent over," he says, voice low, and Robin's ears grow hot. 

"Just put your helmet on," he says, and settles on the seat in front of Hal. He waits for Hal to tug the helmet on and scoot up behind him, front pressed up to Robin's shoulders and hands appearing around his hips to hold on. Robin grins and discreetly touches a button on the chin of his helmet. 

"Boo," he says. A muffled _what the fuck!_ explodes behind him and he giggles. 

"On your chin," he manages, and then Hal's voice appears in his helmet. 

"What the fuck, Robin?" 

"Comms," he answers. "It's Bat-standard." 

"I'm going to Bat-kill you for that." 

"Hey, it'll make the ride less boring." Robin pushes the kickstand back up and rests on his foot. He's only been allowed back on the bike for a few days, but this is his first time using it. "Mind the ribs." 

"Minding." 

Robin revs the engine and peels away from Hal's curb to U-turn back onto the empty road. They chatter idly over the comms while he weaves through lazy afternoon traffic, slower than his usual breakneck speed but still fast enough to make the wind whip at his jacket. Hal's stays closed only by virtue of being pressed between them, warm and solid and _nice_ \- Robin forces his thoughts quickly elsewhere. Aims for a sneaky back road shortcut behind the business sector to avoid the end-of-workday taxi scene. 

He thinks a little about the evening. Hal's not doing his dinner favour tonight - no, tonight is about Robin introducing him to Bruce, mostly. And asking if he can stay over, even though Bruce has told him plenty of times to treat the manor as his own, and just to let Bruce know if there's any guests wandering around so Bruce doesn't accidentally mention Batman in common spaces. He hopes it won't be too weird for Hal. Living with a billionaire _is_ weird, in a lot of ways, but Robin sees Bruce as less of a boss and more like a friend, anyway. And him and Alfred were only too eager to help him settle in. And, Robin has to admit, it's a _lot_ nicer than his shitty old apartment. 

They arrive at the manor what seems like way too quickly. Robin parks at one of the parking spaces outside the wide double doors and dismounts with Hal, clipping the helmets back onto the bike while Hal fishes out his duffel. Hal cranes his neck to look up at the manor - Robin feels a little embarrassed, suddenly, but Hal doesn't comment. Just grins, oddly triumphantly. Then looks back to Robin. 

"Please tell me there's a bathroom somewhere in there," he says. "I drank way too much water before mounting that thing." 

Robin laughs. "Yeah, there's one right next to the entrance. I'll show you." 

It feels weird leading Hal up the familiar marble steps and inside the giant double doors - he points Hal to the plain door on the hallway on the right, ninety degrees from the front door, and Hal leaves him with the duffel and a thumbs up. 

Robin is silently debating how to tell Bruce about this development - he knows he's home today - when telltale footsteps thump through the lobby. Bruce stops to look at him strangely, glancing down at the duffel and back at him. 

Well then, guess this is his chance. 

"Hey Bruce," Robin starts. "Can I bring a friend over?" He gestures half-heartedly to the duffel. "Overnight?" 

"You know you don't need to ask," Bruce says with a smile. Yeah, Robin does know, but it feels weird to just invite someone over to what is, legally, Bruce's house. 

"But yes, of course you can," Bruce finishes. "Just keep it upstairs," he adds meaningfully, giving Robin a pointed look. Robin nods. 

"And if I'm here anyway, can I meet them?" Bruce asks, nodding to the duffel. 

"Yeah, sure, it's - " Robin notices Hal appear silently behind Bruce, "- actually, he's right there." He jerks his chin to Hal. 

Bruce spins on a heel and freezes. So many emotions run through just the tense of his shoulders that Robin loses track of which one he lands on. 

"Hi, Hal," he deadpans. "When did you move to Gotham?" 

Hal smiles, annoyingly cheerful. Robin blinks in surprise - _Bruce knows Hal already?_ \- but can barely voice it before Hal responds. 

"Hey Bruce," he says. "Few months ago. How's retirement? The group chat's been quiet without you." 

Robin glances between them like a ping pong ball, from Bruce's back to Hal's smug smile. _Hi, Hal? Hey, Bruce? Group chat? They fucking know each other_? _He could have known about Hal the whole fucking time_? 

Bruce wheels around to face Robin again, exaggerated exasperation on his face. Hal is still beaming. 

"Of all the people in Gotham to date, you choose him?" 

"We're not dating," Robin corrects, "and how the hell do you two know each other?" 

"Justice League - " Hal says - " - nothing important." Bruce, at the exact same time. 

Bruce glares at Hal. Robin cocks an eyebrow. 

"I will be asking questions later," he warns Bruce. 

"Later," Bruce says. "I've got a video conference to appear in." He sighs and glances between them. "And Hal's welcome for dinner as well." 

"Thanks, Mr. Wayne," Hal says, saluting Bruce's back as he disappears up the stairs. 

Robin crosses his arms. 

"You know Bruce?" He asks. 

"Yeah, I know Batman," Hal says sheepishly. He rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to not tell you, it just...never came up. Especially since he's not doing Batman anymore. Sorry." 

Robin relaxes his arms. He's not _actually_ annoyed at Hal. 

"Hey, I'm joking," he says. "I get it, secret identity lifestyle. But what the fuck is Justice League?" 

Hal doesn't look so awkward now, shrugging with a smile as he steps towards Robin. 

"The League is...I dunno, it's mostly a group chat. Lets us stay in touch." His smile widens. "I guess you and Tiffany could be in there now, as Batman's replacements." 

"Can't believe I could've asked Bruce about you when I first met you," Robin sighs. Hal giggles. It's stupidly endearing. 

"Wanted me to yourself?" He teases. Robin rolls his eyes. 

"If it helps you sleep at night." 

"Thank you." With no one else around, Hal rests his hands on Robin's hips. Robin chuckles under his breath and raises an eyebrow. 

"It's kinda like meeting the parents," Hal says, raking his eyes up and down Robin like a laser. 

"Guess you better be on your best behaviour, then," Robin teases. Hal hums thoughtfully. 

"No," he says confidently. "Now show me your room?" 

\-- 

Dinner starts calmly. Robin, however reluctantly, introduces Hal to Jim, who shoots him a shit-eating grin when Hal's not looking. But the chatter that follows is pretty...seamless, actually, with polite questions traded back and forth. 

"So, Commissioner, huh?" Hal asks, resting an elbow on the table. "Seems like a pretty stressful job." 

"It has its moments," Jim chuckles. Bruce's plate remains covered beside him, reserved for whenever he appears after his video conference. "Mostly, it's a lot of bullshit red tape." 

"I guess that's what Batman's for," Hal quips, sneaking a glance at Robin, who rolls his eyes. Jim laughs good-naturedly, politely, although he also shares a knowing look with Robin. 

Robin might go crazy if Bruce doesn't come down and explain this _League_ \- he's not sure how much more he can take of pretending to each of them that the other doesn't know about Bruce's basement. 

"What do you do?" Jim asks, pushing potatoes onto his fork. He already knows, but he's being polite. 

"Mechanic," Hal answers easily. "Over at Ferris Auto." 

"Ferris? No shit, I think the force gets their bikes done there. I can't say I remember you, though." 

"Yeah, you do." Hal waves a hand in the air. "Jessica's the bike specialist. I'm part-time." 

Jim adjusts his glasses and breaks out in a smile. Hal swallows and points to his plate. 

"This is _good_ , who made this?" He asks, glancing around the table. 

"Jim's the chef," Robin replies. "The rest of us are guinea pigs." 

"It's _great_ , Comish," Hal says around his next mouthful, giving him a thumbs up. Jim laughs, leaning back in his chair. 

"I like him already," he tells Robin, grinning at him from across the table. Hal's shoulder bumps Robin as he reaches for his glass. 

"You're just thrilled that you have someone else to torment." Robin laughs, though, and Hal with him. 

Jim and Hal talk a little more while Robin works through his plate, interjecting here and there to correct Jim, or to playfully insult Hal, and before long, Bruce is stepping into the room. Robin's gaze snaps to him immediately. 

"Hey Bruce," he says, and grins. "So, what's Justice League?" 

Bruce sighs. Jim's head whips around to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

"Can I sit down?" Bruce asks, jokingly exasperated. 

"Bruce, what's he talking about?" Jim asks, and it's Robin's turn to be shocked. 

" _Jim_ doesn't know? Holy shit, Bruce." 

Hal whistles under his breath. "That'll be an awkward conversation." 

"It's a conversation we're having right now," Robin insists. "I, for one, would _love_ to know how I manage to befriend the one person in all of Gotham that Bruce already knows _outside of work_." 

"Hey, I said I'd explain," Bruce says, holding up his hands in surrender. "But Tiffany should really be here as well." 

"You can explain to her later," Robin says. He's already got a partial explanation from Hal, but he's enjoying making Bruce sweat. And the puzzled look on Jim's face. 

"It's called the Justice League," Bruce sighs, casting a glance at Hal. "It's - okay, it's...a group of...vigilantes, I guess. Hal, help me out here." 

"Absolutely not," Hal replies. "I wanna watch you crash and burn." 

Bruce frowns, but not for long. Jim's eyes widen. 

"Wait a second," Jim says. "Hal's part of this - _Justice League_ as well?" 

"Unfortunately," Bruce sighs. "Hal, you wanna introduce yourself?" 

Hal sports a shit-eating grin and holds a hand out to Jim across the table. "Hi, I'm Green Lantern, nice to meet you." 

Jim sputters, then slams a hand down on the table. Robin stifles laughter into a potato. 

"Green _fucking_ Lantern?! I've been fucking holding off the mayor for you for _weeks_!" He leans in menacingly. "I oughta just arrest you and save myself the trouble." 

"You're off the clock," Hal replies, holding his hands up. He's stifling laughter. "I hope." 

Jim stabs a fork at him. "The only reason you're not in a fucking cell right now is because you're helping these two chucklefucks." He gestures to Robin and an invisible Tiffany. Bruce's stare whips around to Robin. 

"Helping?" He asks. "Hal is _helping_ you? You've been _working_ together?" Then he looks at Hal. "And neither of you told me?!" 

"Surprise?" Robin tries, and shrugs. "It's how we met." 

"How you - so he's not a mechanic then," Jim says. Robin shakes his head. 

"No, I'm a mechanic," Hal says. "I gotta pay the bills somehow." 

"I can't believe this," Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least Tiffany's dating someone _normal_." 

"That's rich, coming from _Batman_ ," Robin teases. 

"I'm retired," Bruce protests, but the corner of his mouth is twitching with suppressed laughter. Robin grins at Jim's defeated groan. 

"I feel like we're getting off topic," Hal says, and gestures to Bruce. "I thought we were ripping Bruce a new one?" 

"It was Superman's idea," Bruce sighs - and hold the fuck up, _Superman_? 

" _Superman_?" Robin and Jim spit in unison, dinner completely forgotten in lieu of the guilty look on Bruce's face. 

"You know _Superman_?" Robin asks, and pins a look to Hal as well. "Both of you?" 

"Just let me explain," Bruce pleads, pushing his covered plate away from the edge of the table a little. He scoots forward in his chair. "A couple years ago, Superman and Wonder Woman...approached me." 

It's an easy enough explanation to hear, about two of the most well-known vigilantes - _superheroes_ \- contacting other like-minded individuals, and pooling their knowledge into a couple group chats and the occasional backup. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman. Aquaman, a few months later. And a year into their little alliance, the Flash and Green Lantern had shown up. And that's it, so far. Hal interjects with a couple corrections. Robin and Jim exchange an amused look. 

"Bruce, you've been working with them for two years?" Jim asks, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. "And they _never_ came to Gotham?" 

"No," Bruce replies calmly. 

"Yeah, he never let us," Hal adds. 

"Do they know you're retired?" Robin asks. 

Bruce nods. "But I haven't...told them about you yet." He casts a glance at Hal, who nods. 

"Yeah, I was really fucking surprised to run into you," he confirms, looking at Robin. "As far as we knew, there were no more Bats in Gotham." 

Robin rolls his jaw. "Have _you_ told them about us?" 

To his surprise, Hal shakes his head. "That's Bruce's territory. I'm not about to rat him out." 

"Hold the fuck up," Jim interrupts, holding up his hands. "The court case. You told me the Daily Planet was a Batman favour." 

Hal bursts into loud laughter, and Bruce sheepishly glances at Jim. 

"I didn't ask for it," he says. "But Superman...happens to _work_ at the Planet. As a reporter." 

"You're shitting me." 

"He is _not_ ," Hal giggles, resting his chin in his hand. "Bruce, _how_ did you keep this quiet?" 

"A reporter?" Jim deadpans. "I don't buy it." 

"His name is Clark," Bruce sighs. "Clark Kent - " 

"He interviewed _you_!" 

"Yes." Sighed again. Jim huffs out a laugh and crosses his arms. 

"And Lane?" 

"And Lois...is his wife." 

The entire table explodes in laughter from everyone except Bruce, who mostly just looks lost. Robin can't find any scrap of indignation within him, even though he probably has plenty of reasons to be - going in the field with Tiffany and Bruce never told them about potential superpowered backup, never told them about _allies_ \- but none of it is strong enough to protest. 

Most of them calm down to giggles in the next couple minutes. Bruce takes a long drink of water. When he sets it down again, Jim and Hal are picking at their plates once more, questions answered for now. 

All of a sudden, Hal jumps beside Robin, startled. A moment later, Robin hears Marie's telltale snuffles on Hal's side of the table - she must have wandered in through the door behind him. 

"Holy shit," he exclaims, and reaches down to ruffle Marie's head. "You have a _dog_?" 

"That's Marie," Bruce says. Robin watches as Marie rises up and rests her chin on Hal's thigh, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. 

"Marie," Hal repeats, and grins as he scritches her cheek. "Who's a good girl, Marie? Who's a good girl?" 

Marie _ruffs_ sharply, and her tail wags audibly. 

"She likes you," Robin says, and sneaks a glance at Bruce, who looks appropriately playfully resigned. 

"She better not," Jim threatens, but breaks into a smile a moment later. Robin reaches over Hal to pet Marie's muzzle. 

"Don't worry, I'm sure you're still her favourite," Robin teases. "Isn't that right, Marie? You like ol' Jimbo best?" 

The nickname makes Jim sigh audibly. Marie barks again, and slips her head off of Hal's lap to walk underneath the table, knocking all of their legs. She reappears at Jim's corner, curling up beside his chair. Jim beams and leans down to pet her with one hand, murmuring sweet nothings to her. 

"He loves that dog more than me," Bruce sighs, gazing fondly at Jim and Marie. 

"You're not off the hook yet, mister," Jim jokes, jabbing a fork in Bruce's direction. "You know _Superman_." Then at Hal. " _Both_ of you do." 

"Hey, I'm in shock, too," Hal says, holding his hands up. "I've just found out Bruce has a _heart_." 

"When have I ever - " 

"Grr, I'm Batman," Hal imitates, pushing his voice down into a growl. "Get out of my city, Lantern, I hate you for both your looks and your youth." 

Jim cackles loud enough to startle Marie, and Bruce turns on Hal, and Robin gleefully watches the new chaos unfold as they bicker over the table, disrupted by laughter and, eventually, story-telling, when Jim manages to actually ask for a few League tales. 

\-- 

The manor's quiet with its evening activities. Bruce and Jim are undoubtedly doing something domestic like walking through the gardens or holing up in their lounge with books and TV. Alfred and Rosie are in their house for the night. 

And Robin and Hal, well. They went upstairs to play games in Robin's room, but Robin's not surprised they've ended up here instead, controllers discarded and TV turned off, Hal's knees either side of his hips and Hal's lips on his. One hand meanders down Robin's side, feeling out his angles and dips, and the other stays planted firmly on the pillow beside his head - Robin takes advantage of the position to brush his fingers up Hal's sides and back down, tuck them under his waistband to guide their slight rocking. He shivers at the next roll - although Hal's grinding can't properly reach Robin from here, just the implications make him tingle all over. He scrapes his teeth over Hal's lower lip, lazily bucks his hips up to mime something filthy, and Hal muffles a quiet noise against him before pulling away enough to speak. 

"So, what about that ride you promised?" He asks, grinding down pointedly. 

"On the bike?" Robin teases with a squeeze. Hal's laugh puffs out across his lips. 

"On anything I'd like." Hal rocks again, slow, deliberate, and Robin grins wickedly. He opens the bedside drawer without looking and watches Hal's eyes fix to the inside. 

"Choose one," he offers. Hal's mouth parts. 

"Wow," he breathes, straightening a little so he can comfortably reach inside. He pulls out a couple different toys - one more realistically detailed, and the other decidedly more unrealistically ridged. 

"This is the one from the field," he says, holding up the former. He cocks an eyebrow at Robin. 

"A favourite?" He guesses. Robin rolls his hips up again. 

"Yeah," he admits. "But I want _you_ to choose." 

Hal pinkens in the cheeks and sets both back in the drawer. There's only four dildos in there, and one's strapless, so Robin isn't surprised when Hal pulls out the third harness one instead. It's smoother than the others, and the head is a much more subtle ridge than the others. It's also a smaller than average size. 

"I haven't done cowgirl since the academy," Hal says with a grin, and places that toy on the bed. 

"Good choice," Robin murmurs, sliding a hand into Hal's hair to bring him back down for a kiss. He trails his other hand around Hal's hip until he's at the zipper, and then he squeezes the bulge there. Hal startles in his lap. 

"Careful, or you're gonna stall my engine," he whispers. Robin breaks into a loud laugh at the ridiculous turn of phrase. Hal giggles against his mouth. 

" _Stall your engine_?" 

"How else was I supposed to put it?" 

Robin gives him that, and leans up for another kiss. Hal indulges but then plants a hand on his chest above his healing rib to push him gently down. 

"Stop distracting me," he says. His breathing is noticeably heavier. His eyes drift to the toy. "Let me - you got a shower through there?" 

"Yeah," Robin says, releasing Hal's hips so he can get off the bed. Hal adjusts his jeans and goes for the duffle at the end of his bed, tugging out a plastic bag with something familiar inside - Robin laughs. Hal pauses. 

"What?" He asks, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks. "I'm not an idiot, Grayson, I come prepared." 

"No, no, it's just - " Robin giggles again, " - I've got some in the bathroom already. Under the sink. Also disposable." 

"Oh. _Oh_." Hal's embarrassment melts into playful. "How thoughtful of you." 

"I didn't get them for _you_ ," Robin says, and it's his turn to blush. "But you can use one." 

Hal blinks in surprise. "Are they - I thought you didn't want - " 

This isn't exactly how Robin wanted to have this conversation, but it's maybe the funniest way they could have stumbled onto this. 

"You're not the only one who likes it up the ass," he says, powering through the instinctive embarrassment even though his rational mind knows he never needs to be awkward around Hal. 

"Huh. Interesting," Hal says, putting his douche back in his duffle. 

"Not - Not _completely_ ," Robin says, struggling to find the best way to put it. He drops his head to the pillow. "Just fingers. Sometimes." 

Hal sucks in a quiet breath. "Okay. That's - that's hot, yeah." 

Robin laughs. "Glad you think so." Suddenly there's a hand on his thigh, and Hal sits on the side of the bed. 

"Hey, we don't have to if - " 

"I wouldn't have told you if I didn't want to do it with you," Robin interrupts. Hal swallows audibly. Robin reaches for his wrist and uses his forearm to tug him back down - this time, the kiss is a little more than just base arousal. Robin hesitates to think what it means. 

"Go think about that while you get ready," he mutters, lightly shoving Hal off of him. "There's lube under the sink, too. Wrap it in one of the bags and put it in the bin when you're done." 

"Give me half an hour," Hal promises, and steals another kiss before heading off to the bathroom. 

While the shower runs, Robin sits up and tries desperately not to get too horny thinking about Hal _riding_ him - a position he hadn't thought to suggest before, but now that he's still nursing an achey rib, and being sat down is the comfiest, well, it opens up _that_ opportunity, at least. He imagines feeling the flex and pull of Hal's thighs under his hands, wonders what it'll feel like when he's shaky and close - 

Robin distracts himself by picking up his phone and scrolling through social media. He replies to a few texts. Watches a YouTube video on glass blowing. Really anything that'll stop his mind from racing towards the end of the night too quickly - and anything that'll halt the heat pulsing between his legs. He pauses to take off his jeans, put on the harness and toy, and settle back in. 

Forty-five minutes later, Hal emerges, redressed in his shirt and jeans, hair raked carelessly to the side. Robin puts his phone on the table and loosely grips the base of the toy, stroking up in a visual tease for Hal. 

"Well, that's a sight and a half," Hal says, licking his lips. Robin laughs. 

"Lose the jeans," he says, mostly playful, but Hal does take them off before straddling Robin again, smirking despite the flush on his cheeks. His fingers smell like soap when his hand lands on the pillow next to Robin's ear. Robin grips his thighs, hooks his fingers around the back of them to scoot him up a little more. His cock brushes against Hal's ass. 

"You're a tease," Hal accuses gently. Robin grins and runs one hand up to the front of Hal's underwear. He's still hard. 

Instead of replying, Robin fists his other hand in Hal's shirt to urge him down for a kiss that comes out fiercer than planned - all the heat of before rushing back to fill in the gaps as teeth worry his lower lip. Absence does make some stuff grow fonder, he guesses. Even if it's only for forty-five minutes. 

Hands start wandering quick, and it's only half a minute before they're back to where they were, hips rolling to meet each other and both of them breathing heavily between their kisses. Somewhere in the shifting, Hal managed to move back down so Robin's dick rubs against his instead, and this time when he grinds down it makes both of them moan. Robin's hips jerk involuntarily and Hal's stutter. 

"Fuck, 'm gonna come if we keep doing this," Hal breathes. Robin nods and tries not to think about Hal coming in his underwear just from grinding. It's a very tempting image, but he manages to tear his hand from Hal's hair long enough to rummage in the drawer without looking - he knows where things roughly are in there, and snags a condom between his pinky and third finger. Then his thumb closes around one of the bottles in there, and he drops both on the bed. 

"Off," he grunts, tugging at Hal's shirt - Hal takes over and smoothly strips, dropping it to the floor as Robin runs an appreciative hand up his bicep. 

"You too," Hal says, rucking up the front of Robin's shirt. His fingers send little electric thrills through Robin. 

"I'll trade you for these." Robin plucks at Hal's briefs and Hal gets off of him to remove those, too. 

Robin takes the chance to pull off his shirt and sit up against the headboard instead - he has to slouch back down a little when Hal gets back on his lap so it's comfortable for both of them, but now he can _touch_ , sliding his hands up Hal's bare thighs and skating his thumbs down the faint V to make Hal shiver. Fingers dance down his own body, touching over his abdomen, his happy trail, running underneath the waistband of the harness in a tease until they trace their way back up to grab his chin and kiss him. 

Without breaking it, Robin reaches for the lube and slicks up his index and middle fingers. Hal laughs softly against his mouth - a laugh that melts into a muffled moan when Robin slides his dry hand around to squeeze Hal's ass in a dirty move that reminds him, funnily enough, of Hal. 

"Handsy," Hal pants, and swallows another noise when Robin wraps the hand around his cock instead. "I like it." 

Robin rubs his palm deliberately over the head. His other hand creeps around to cup Hal's ass, wet fingers kept carefully away from skin. 

"That's - that's really fuckin' dangerous," Hal warns. Robin squeezes his ass again with third, pinky, and thumb. Hal licks his lips. They catch against Robin's with his next quiet inhale. 

Robin wasn't expecting this to be quite so devastatingly hot, but Hal always proves him wrong in that regard. 

He leans up for another kiss, open-mouthed and hot and completely consuming, and slowly brushes his wet fingers somewhere a bit more interesting for Hal, who jumps at little at the touch. Robin just cups his jaw and keeps him where he is, pairing gentle drags of his teeth with gentle circles of his fingers. Hal grinds forward messily, his panting lost between them as his hands grip the headboard either side of Robin. 

"Stop being so impatient," Robin parrots, and is punished by a pointed roll of Hal's hips that presses the toy nicely against him. 

"Sue me," Hal murmurs. And grinds down again. Robin barely bites back a moan. 

"Fuck, now _you're_ getting dangerous," he replies, and his mouth falls open on the next press. "Hal, fuck." 

"Guess you'd better hurry up, then," Hal teases. 

"Asshole," Robin whispers, and sinks his teeth harder into Hal's lip. 

It takes about ten seconds to find out that Hal was, in fact, very enthusiastic about his cleaning and prep earlier. Robin's finger slides in easier than it should. 

"Already did the work, huh?" He pants, and opens his eyes just enough to see Hal's cheeks colour. Robin rubs his thumb around the outside and sinks his finger in all the way - Hal's breath stutters. 

Robin curls the fingers of his free hand around Hal's dick again and strokes loosely, keeping his fist lax so Hal can still rock forward, and judging by the quiet moan Hal buries against his cheek, it was the right idea. Although now without kissing, all Robin can do is _watch_ the muscles in Hal's shoulders and arms flex when he grinds, pressing sloppier kisses to Robin's neck and nodding silently when Robin stops thrusting in and starts slipping his second finger inside to start stretching Hal better. It's an awkward angle, but Robin can tilt his wrist enough so the side of his middle finger presses _down_ \- Hal groans into his shoulder and twitches in his grip. Robin swears quietly. Heat pools thick all through him, weighing his tongue and deepening his voice and only worsened by the sight (and _feel_ ) of Hal rocking between his hands. Suddenly, one of Hal's hands drops to wiggle fingers underneath the harness. 

" _Hal_ ," Robin gasps - and moans, a second later, when Hal strokes his thumb over his cock. 

"Only fair," Hal pants, lifting his head to look at him. He withdraws his thumb to bring it up to Robin's mouth, rests it deliberately on his lower lip. Robin presses on his sweet spot and feels Hal twitch again in his hand. He grins at the reaction and drags his tongue across the pad of Hal's thumb - but before Hal can remove his hand, Robin closes his lips around the thumb again, locking eyes with Hal and deliberately hollowing his cheeks as he licks the pad once more. Hal swears shakily. Robin sinks down and pulls back up in a slow parody of what Hal's felt him do elsewhere, pairs it with a cruel curl of his fingers inside Hal. 

" _Fuck_ ," Hal spits, a shiver running through him from the twin sensations. A string of spit connects his thumb to Robin's lips when he pulls it out. Robin breaks it with a parting kiss to the pad, and Hal replaces thumb with mouth as his hand dives back down between them. 

Robin shivers at the touches, moans Hal's name in the scant space between them when he rubs hard circles up the underside, brushes over the sensitive head - meanwhile, Robin adds a third finger and tightens his grip on Hal, fucking him until Hal's easily rolling back against his hand. Hal's stroking has him scarily close already, thighs trembling under Hal's and his rhythm faltering. 

"Hal, Hal - _Hal_ , I'm close, I'm gonna - " Robin breaks into a ragged groan, hips jerking under Hal's hand. Hal doesn't stop despite his warning, and Robin's head thumps back against the headboard. 

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," he hisses, his hands wholly distracted by the way Hal is kissing down his jaw, his neck, the curve of his grin imprinted against Robin's skin. 

All of a sudden, Hal stops. All the tension running through Robin abruptly stops building and just _hovers_ , endless and torturous. It takes effort to open his eyes, and finds Hal looking right at him. 

"Hal," he says, voice scratchy. "Hal, please - " 

"Or you could wait," Hal says, although his voice is shot through, too, his hips still rolling down onto Robin's fingers. Robin recognises the quake he can feel in Hal's thighs. As an experiment, he taps his thumb over the head of his dick, but it comes away dry. So not too far gone, then. 

"You'll pay for this," Robin threatens. He rocks his hips up weakly - just that barest brush against Hal's stationary fingers makes him shiver. Robin presses his fingers down inside Hal in retaliation, but this time he doesn't let up after a couple seconds - Hal curses softly but whines when Robin doubles down and _rubs_. 

"F-Fuck, wait, wait," he pants, and Robin stops. "Fuck, okay." 

Robin lets him have a few seconds to calm himself down, eyes screwed shut in concentration. 

"Fuck," Hal breathes again. "That was _mean_." 

"You started it," Robin reminds him, and Hal laughs as he presses his fingers to Robin's cock once more. 

The effect is _instant_ , the cooled spit on Hal's fingers lighting up Robin's nerves all over again as he bucks helplessly into the touch. It's like Hal never stopped, all of the tension immediately picking up where it left off, sudden and quick and making Robin shivery-hot all over, from the heat in his cheeks to the shake in his thighs, his hands forced to stop moving on Hal out of fear of accidentally hurting him with how _close_ he is, head dropping back against the headboard and his panting mixed with desperate gasps for breath. Hal takes the chance to kiss down Robin's throat instead, messy and passionate, and speeds up until his fingers are almost a blur between them. Robin's head spins, his muscles tighten. 

" _Hal_ ," he gasps brokenly, eyes slamming shut of their own accord when he comes - he involuntarily curls forward a little, pressing his forehead to Hal's shoulder as he trembles and swears, so violently hot that it feels like he might spontaneously combust - but then it retreats as his hips jerk again, and Hal's touch slows, still generous and _nice_ but not so hard that it makes him buck with sensitivity. He relaxes after a few moments. 

"Jesus," he breathes. Hal leaves him with a parting grind and kisses him full on the mouth. But, as Robin can tell by the aborted rocks of Hal's hips, he doesn't last long. 

"Robin," he pants, but Robin doesn't need him to finish the sentence. 

"Yeah," Robin murmurs, and gently pulls his fingers out of Hal. 

It takes a second to reposition and for Robin to roll on the condom and slick himself up with more lube, but then Hal scoots up and Robin holds his hip to keep him steady as he presses the head against Hal. He rocks up a couple times to tease, enjoys the way Hal moans at it, and then slowly eases himself in and guides Hal down. Hal pauses a few times on the way to adjust, shifting on his knees and resting his hands on the headboard while Robin plants a flurry of kisses to his cheek and jaw, trying to gently distract him as he lowers himself. When Hal's ass meets his thighs, Hal stops, his breathing stuttery and uneven beside Robin's ear. 

"Good?" Robin asks. Hal nods. 

"Very good," he pants. Experimentally lifts himself up and back down half an inch. " _Yeah_ , yeah, that's good." 

Robin temporarily forgets to breathe at how hot that is. He settles his hand on Hal's thigh, feels it flex and tense at the next rise and fall. 

"Can I move?" Robin breathes. Hal nods again, and Robin slowly rolls his hips up, meeting Hal on the fall. Hal crumples so his elbows rest on Robin's shoulders. 

"Fuck," he bites out. "Keep doin' that." 

Robin has every intention to, if it makes Hal sound like that, so he uses the grip on his hip to guide him into a moderate rhythm. His dry hand skates around to run up Hal's back, to feel the muscles bunch when Robin thrusts up into him. The angle gives a sort of nice pressure on Robin, but he's focused more on Hal right now, on sliding his wet hand around Hal's dick and stroking in time - Hal moans louder against his ear and turns to catch Robin's mouth in a messy kiss, more spit and air than lips and tongue. Robin's past caring. 

Hal's the one that speeds up first, and Robin follows suit with both hips and hand, pulling away from the kiss just to watch Hal riding him for a minute, watch how his whole body tenses and flexes with each thrust, how his cock twitches against Robin's palm, how his forearms shake on his shoulders. Hal stifles a whine and shifts his hips for a new angle, and this time when he slides down he gasps, his nose knocking against Robin's. 

"There?" Robin asks, adjusting his hand to dig his fingers in around Hal's hip and keep the angle. It provides a _shockingly_ good sensation on Robin's dick as well. 

"Y-Yeah," Hal moans, and whimpers when Robin hits the spot again, stays in to grind against it. Slick stains his thumb. Robin grins and smears it down Hal's shaft, moans at the next thrust. 

It get harder for them to keep a good rhythm, each thrust punctuated by a sharp bolt of arousal, and it's not long before Hal's a panting mess on Robin's shoulder, leaking profusely against his fingers on each stroke and greedily fucking down for sensation. Sweat gathers on the backs of Robin's knees with the exertion, but _fuck_ , he wouldn't stop for anything now, not when Hal is so close he's practically begging with each cut-off moan and rubbing the harness against Robin in a way that makes him shudder with each press. He can see Hal's toes curl behind him when he kisses his shoulder, groans at the sight, and Hal's thrusts abruptly grow sloppy, carelessly riding Robin and chasing what he can get while Robin curses into the hot air between them and fucks up faster. 

When Hal starts to shake, Robin suddenly grabs his hips with both hands and slams them down. And holds them there. 

"Wh - _Robin_ ," Hal whines, dropping his forehead onto Robin's shoulder. "Robin, _please_." 

"Or you could wait," Robin teases, but his breath is coming shorter and shorter. He feels a bead of slick drip onto his happy trail. Hal mumbles something incoherent. 

"What was that?" Robin asks innocently. 

" - please, please, _please_ ," Hal mumbles louder. His voice twists into a whine. " _Please_ , 'm so close, Robin." 

Hal tries to lift up again, but Robin pins him down. Hal _whimpers_. He's trembling finely all over. 

"Please," he whispers again, and Robin doesn't have the willpower to deny both of them anymore. But instead of taking Hal in hand, he just digs his fingers in and lifts Hal's hips _for_ him, then pulls him back down - and Hal _lets_ him, sucking in a shaky breath and moaning against his shoulder. He moves with him but lets Robin keep control, huffing out muffled noises every time Robin rolls his hips up in return, not thrusting as much as deliberately hitting the sweet spot to worsen Hal's shaking. 

Hal swears and drops a hand to himself. Robin pants out a rough approximation of Hal's name and selfishly grinds up against him - keeps tugging Hal back down onto his dick and tries to keep his own thrusts snappy but he only gets sloppier the closer he gets. He loosens his grip so Hal can chase the pace he wants as he jacks himself off, his whole body bunching up and quivering. 

"Hal," Robin groans, unable to keep quiet for much longer when Hal's rough thrusts rub the harness against him much more insistently, desperation woven through the shake of Hal's thighs, the quiet grunts against Robin's skin - Robin gathers himself enough to knock Hal's hand away and stroke him himself, using the leftover lube on his hand to make it wet and _fast_ , murmuring Hal's name as Hal moans and frantically fucks himself down. 

"C'mon," Robin pants mindlessly, clumsily nosing under Hal's jaw to kiss there. His pulse hammers against his lips. "C'mon, Hal, _fuck_." 

" _Robin_ ," Hal whimpers, and abruptly shudders all over, hurriedly bites Robin's shoulder to muffle a _loud_ moan as he comes, curling in on himself a little. 

Come smears on Robin's fingers, interrupted by his strokes, and lands on his abdomen - that'll be a bitch to clean off later, he thinks, and then doesn't think anything else because Hal grinds down greedily and that, combined with the way his forearm flexes on Robin's shoulder, pushes him clean off the edge. 

All he's really conscious of is how fucking _good_ it feels, his hands and hips on autopilot as he pants and moans into Hal's jawline, eyes closed and breath stuttering when Hal presses down against him, sending sparks skittering across his skin. Hal tiredly nudges his hand away and grips the headboard to roll his hips down, pushing on Robin's cock until oversensitivity slices through him and he stills Hal's hips again. They don't move for a long minute after that. 

"Fuck," Robin breathes, tipping his head back against the headboard. Hal echoes the sentiment and lifts his head to brush his lips up Robin's throat, his chin, eventually coming up to kiss him. Robin moans lazily into it and grabs at Hal's sides, careful to keep still below the waist. 

Hal leaves sooner than Robin wants him to, but it's just to look down between them. He slides an appreciative hand down Robin's chest and dips a dry finger into the drops of come splattered across his abdomen. Robin gently grabs his wrist and brings it up to his mouth to lick it off. Hal's eyes widen and he smoothly leans in to kiss Robin, his tongue swiping over the taste on his lower lip. 

"I need to get off," Hal murmurs afterwards, shifting on Robin's lap. Robin nods and grips the base of the toy while Hal slowly lifts up and off, sighing in relief when he sits back down in front of it. " _And_ I need a shower." But he kisses Robin again anyway, soft and easy. 

"And please tell me the walls are soundproof," Hal adds. "Even if you have to lie." 

Robin laughs - loudly, because the walls _are_ indeed thick enough to be soundproof in the manor bedrooms. 

"Yeah, they're thick," he assures him. "And anyway, no one would be able to hear you across the manor." 

"They could be walking around," Hal says. 

"Not here." Robin looks away awkwardly. "I, uh - Bruce kind of rents out the whole wing to me." 

"That's - okay one, I never want to think about Bruce while I'm still sitting on your lap," Hal laughs, "and _two_ , the _whole wing_?" 

"It's an agreement," Robin explains. "I have this hallway, he and Jim have the one across the stairs, and we never go to each other's." 

"I'm having that shower," Hal says, and dismounts. "This is too rich for me." 

"Hey, wait - " Robin giggles and clumsily gets up from the bed, batting at Hal's wrist. His knees feel weak. 

But Hal does wait for him, and starts the shower while Robin tugs off the condom and frees the toy from the harness - the former he hands to Hal for washing in the shower, and the latter he tosses in the laundry hamper beside the sink. Hal tugs him into the shower before he can do anything else, and kisses him under the spray, warm and tingling and soothing in contrast to the shock of the water. 


	9. Chapter 9

The suit is both familiar and new all at the same time - it's exactly the same as his old suit, structurally, but he hasn't worn it in so long that it almost feels like the first time all over again. The armour settles comfortingly on his shoulders and moulds around the rest of his body like he was never off-duty. He bounces on his heels just to feel the plush gel padding in the soles, and grins at the feeling. 

It's really a work of art, how Tiffany made this suit. It's lightweight enough for his fighting style but still heavy-duty protective, with flexible, shock-absorbing armour and padded joints and edges for Robin especially, so he doesn't have to worry about fracturing his elbow when he throws it into an enemy's face. Or too much bruising, when he flips and rolls. The sticks slot easily into their sheathes. The gloves fit like a second skin, padded in the knuckles and over the palms, with haptic touch in the fingertips. 

Robin traces his fingers over the vibrant blue over his chest, twists his wrist to watch the stripe follow the movement in the mirror. It feels _good_ to be back on field duty. 

He picks up the mask from the table and fits it over his eyes, pressing on the corners to encourage the adhesive to stick. Looking out, the lenses are clear, but when he meets his eyes in the mirror, they're an opaque white. He ruffles his fingers through his hair and steps away from the suit displays, heading towards the stairs to descend to Tiffany's level. 

"How is it?" Tiffany asks, grinning wide. Robin nods, and delights in the subtle squish of his feet against the soles of the boots. 

"It's fucking fantastic," he answers. Hal smiles softly at him from beside Tiffany, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. 

"So, where are we going?" Robin asks. 

"What makes you think we're going anywhere?" Tiffany jokes. Robin laughs. 

"You can't clear me and expect me to sit still," he says. "Not after three months." 

Tiffany's eyes crinkle in the corners. "It's a surprise." 

"A surprise?" 

"Yep." Tiffany pushes herself up from her chair and gestures to the suit platform Robin just came from. "Let me get changed and we'll go out." 

"Okay." 

Tiffany calmly walks around the table to go past him, but Robin catches her wrist before she can pass. 

"Thank you," he says quietly. Tiffany nods, and lets out a quiet _oof!_ when Robin pulls her into a hug. She relaxes into it a moment later, squeezing him encouragingly around the middle. 

"You look more like yourself again," she murmurs into his ear, and presses their cheeks together. 

"I feel it," Robin replies, and lets go of her so she can go up the stairs. 

While Tiffany changes, Robin perches on the table beside Hal, smiling at the way Hal's head dips as his gaze roams over his suit. They had more thoroughly... _informed_ Bruce of Hal's professional involvement with them after Bruce had explained the Justice League to Tiffany, so Hal's now free to come and go in the manor and the Batcave - and come and go he does, although he's usually visiting for the upstairs rather than the downstairs. Robin doesn't try to read too much into it, but Hal sleeping in his bed makes his heart do flips every time. He tells himself it's only fair for how many times he's crashed at Hal's, but even he knows that's a lie. 

"Hey stranger," Hal says, lips quirking up in a smile. His shoulder presses to Robin's. 

"Hey yourself." Robin can't see past the white lenses of Hal's mask, but he's sure his eyes are crinkled handsomely in the corners with amusement. 

Robin shoots a glance back up at the platform. Tiffany is nowhere to be seen yet. He turns back to Hal and leans in a little, lifting a hand between them to gently touch underneath Hal's chin. Hal's lips part on his soft exhale. 

"Can I kiss you?" Robin murmurs, feels like he's skipping hurdles in the race - they don't just _kiss_ outside of the bedroom, or when there's not at least a vague promise of doing _something_ later. But Hal asked him at the beach all those months ago, and Robin had chalked it up to the mood, to the simmering tension, but even he's not willing to drown in that Egyptian river. 

He wants to. He wants to kiss Hal, and not just inside the bedroom; he wants to kiss him across dinner, or over a movie, or in public, wants to - 

Hal nods slightly and tilts his head and meets him in the middle. It's a soft, swift thing - a thing that stops, and Robin immediately chases for another one, and when he pulls away for good his chest aches, but this time it's not from a fractured rib. A corner of Hal's mouth is slanted up in a fond smile, just between them. 

"It's good to see you back in the suit," Hal says, his smile stretching to his normal grin once more. "I was starting to miss you out there." 

"Well, I didn't want you to forget about me," Robin teases. Hal laughs. 

"I couldn't forget about _you_ ," he replies, and sentimental, traitorous words leap to the tip of Robin's tongue, all soft syllables and meaningful consonants, and he can barely - 

"All right, let's go!" Tiffany shouts, interrupting Robin's trainwreck thoughts. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he stands up with Hal to face her. 

"Do you know where we're going?" Robin asks Hal, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yeah," Hal says, a laugh bubbling out of him at Robin's exasperated sigh. 

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Tiffany teases, leading the three of them to the hidden exit. "You'll need to grapple, though." 

"I assumed so," Robin says dryly, patting the grappling gun on his hip. Tiffany opens the door with a button on her gauntlet and grins at them before stepping outside. They follow, and the door slides shut behind them; not a moment later, Tiffany's taking off in the jet, already speeding away before Robin can start running. 

"Hey!" He calls, and Hal floats gently up from the ground beside him. 

"Keep up if you can," Hal jokes, and shoots up into the sky. 

Robin sighs and starts running after them. 

\-- 

He can't keep his fake exasperation up for long. Tiffany and Hal have led him all across the city, jumping from rooftops and swinging through empty streets and even climbing ambitiously up the side of a parking garage, once, and they end up at the top of Wayne Tower, sitting on the edge and catching their breath and looking out at the twinkling lights of the city, the familiar sounds of traffic and nightlife drifting up to them on the warm breeze. 

"Okay, beats me, what are we out here for?" Robin asks, looking between Tiffany and Hal. 

"Just this," Tiffany says. "Thought you'd like to get out of the manor." 

"Stretch your legs," Hal adds, and Robin ducks his head with a smile. On his left, Hal nudges his shoulder. Tiffany knocks his knee on his right. 

"It's Saturday," he says. 

"And?" Hal asks. Robin looks over at him, at the way the wind ruffles his hair. 

"Don't you have better things to do?" Robin asks, turning to Tiffany. 

"Nope," Tiffany answers, popping the 'p'. She smiles out at the city, then glances at Robin. 

"Thank you," Robin says to both of them, dropping his gaze to the busy streets below once more. 

Tiffany nudges his side. "You're important to us, Robin." 

Hal's hand lands beside him on the rooftop, pressed up close. Robin shifts to overlap their pinky fingers, hooking his around Hal's. He doesn't really care, now, if Tiffany sees. By the way Hal squeezes his finger, he doesn't care, either. 

It _had_ been good, stretching his legs again. It's been so long since he's done free-running, and even longer since just being on a _rooftop_ , and the air and the movement do wonders for his mood. Even now, just the wind blowing on his face, he can't help smiling at the faint taste of sea salt on it. And Tiffany and Hal didn't have to spend their day off with him, but they _did_ , and it was - well, it's the most fun Robin's had outside of Hal's apartment in a while. In fact, he's happy, now, that tonight wasn't about business. 

"I missed this," Robin sighs, kicking his feet against the edge of the building. He should probably be wary of the edge, and even warier of sitting on it, but he's never had a fear of heights. And right now, he's got a grapple gun and two people who would save him without hesitation - who _have_ saved him, in the past, without hesitation. 

Shouting and cheering from below wash over them with the breeze; horns honk and blare from the bridge all the way to the docks, and despite his last adoptive parents, and despite the manor, and despite his entire upbringing, Robin's never felt more at home than he does up here, sitting between two of his best friends above a loud, busy city, and knowing that he's one of the people out here helping to protect it. 

\-- 

Hal tips his head back against the sofa and pants softly through his mouth, hips lifting in jerky little bucks to meet his hand. He's close, but enjoying it, closing his eyes to sink into the fantasy again as his fist tightens around the head, pulling a sharp exhale from him. 

He thinks of Robin, unsurprisingly, thinks about kissing him, about touching him - takes it a step further to match how close he is in reality, thinks about Robin peppering kisses up his thighs, about his cocky smile when he pushes two fingers into Hal up to the knuckles - finally settles on the image of Robin on top of him, teasing his cock, sucking hickeys across his collarbone as Hal digs fingers into his back, drops a hand to help Robin in return. It's a scenario they've done before, more than once, but _god_ , Hal can't get over how _hot_ Robin is when they're getting up to shit. Fantasy-Robin groans against Hal's shoulder and rocks harder into his hand - he swipes a thumb over the head of Hal's dick and Hal bites back an embarrassing noise - it's one thing to jack off alone in his living room, but it's another thing to start _moaning_ about it. 

He can't help it, really, though, not when it comes to Robin. The fantasy soon mirrors real life, with Hal fucking up desperately into his fist and his head dropping forward instead as he tenses, lost in the thoughts of Robin panting against his cheek, clamping his thighs to Hal's - 

" - Hal," Robin moans (says?) and Hal comes instantly with a shudder, unable to bite back his response. 

" _Robin_ ," he gasps, and sucks in another huge breath as he drags his come-slick hand back down himself. 

Almost immediately, Hal realises that Robin sounded way too real for a fantasy. He opens his eyes and real-Robin stands staring in front of his front door, holding up a takeaway bag. 

_Shit_ , he forgot Robin was coming over for dinner today. 

"I - " Hal's throat closes up. There's come on his hand and a couple drops on his shirt and Robin seems frozen. Hal abruptly tugs his shirt off to hide the mess, balling it up over his wet hand and hurriedly tucking himself in with the other. 

"I - fuck, I'm so sorry," Hal stands up, unsure what he's about to. "I'll go - I'll go shower, you can make yourself at home." And he rushes out of the living room as fast as he can, shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaning against it with a heavy sigh. 

_Fuck_. That was more than embarrassing, that was _way_ too private, that probably freaked Robin the fuck out. He's probably on his way out, probably already texting Hal about _rescheduling_ or something. It's one thing to _talk_ about fantasies, when they're hot and heavy and pressed up in each other's personal space, and it's another thing altogether to let Robin _see_ those fantasies. 

Hal bangs his clothed fist against his forehead. He takes another deep breath. 

"Hal, where are your napkins? I can't find any." 

_Robin_. Just on the other side of the door. Hal pulls the shirt away from his face. 

"Left cupboard, top shelf," he answers, and hears Robin's footsteps walk away. He sighs in barely earned relief. 

Robin's staying. He's _staying_. Despite Hal's stupidity, he's staying. 

Hal tosses the shirt in the hamper and goes to shower. 

When he emerges from his bedroom, he finds Robin sitting at his kitchen table, the takeout transferred onto plates and the boxes respectfully flattened and shoved into Hal's recycling. Robin looks up from his phone to smile at him, innocent and genuine, and Hal's heart does flips in his chest. 

"I got Netflix up on here," Robin says, wiggling his phone. He kicks out the seat next to him and Hal gladly sinks into it, pushing damp hair away from his face. Robin rests his phone on a little built-in phone case kickstand and nudges his elbow as they choose what to watch. It's so oddly, overwhelmingly normal that Hal almost wants to stop and ask if he just _dreamt_ the last half an hour, or if Robin just let himself in while he was in the shower and he did not, in fact, thoroughly embarrass himself on first sight. 

He doesn't, though. Instead, he just pulls his plate closer and picks up the chopsticks and watches TV with Robin at his cramped little dining table. He doesn't even realise how stiff he is until Robin leans against him, flashes him a warm, winning smile, and presses their thighs together under the table. 

And then, between the credits of one episode and the start of the next, Robin kisses the corner of his mouth. Hal greedily, instinctively, turns to meet him, and is rewarded with a quiet sigh, a softer press of lips before they go back to their food. 

Dinner leads to a brief Netflix binge, which leads to video games, which leads to collapsing in laughter on the sofa, heads turned together. Hal's skin tingles where Robin's cheek touches his. Robin is pressed up carelessly agains him, thigh to shoulder, a forgotten controller on his lap as Hal's character spawns and dies instantly on glitched spot number fifty of the night. 

"We can try again tomorrow," Robin giggles while Hal's character groans with pain. 

"Yeah," Hal agrees. He turns the console and TV off and gently takes Robin's controller from him to rest it on the coffee table beside his own. "You wanna go to bed?" 

There's a moment where their eyes meet, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air - _to bed to do what?_ \- but when neither of them make a move, it's answered for them. Hal, for one, never minds when Robin sleeps over just to _sleep_. It's still fun just being around him. Although it's a bit late to be evaluating his relationship when he's already heads over heels for the man sitting beside him. 

"You wanna shower?" Hal offers. 

"See you in ten," Robin answers, and heads off to grab his clothes from his backpack before disappearing into Hal's bedroom to get to the bathroom. 

Soon enough, they're both lying on Hal's bed in the dark. And in the light of the living room, and with the warm company, it was almost easy to forget about his...faux pas, to put it lightly. But even with Robin beside him, the dark feels oppressive, blanketing, and Hal can't let go of the stupid incident. 

So here they are. Hal's on his back, guilty mind still circling around the awkward beginning of the evening, and Robin shifts under the covers. He's lying on his side, facing away from Hal, but he's made sure to stay close, his back pressed up against Hal's arm. Neither of them are asleep. Hal feels the almost overwhelming urge to say something, words piling up behind his teeth and begging to spill. 

"I'm still sorry about earlier," he murmurs. It doesn't really help his heart rate. 

"There's no problem," Robin says, but rolls over onto his back. 

A long silence follows, still neither of them asleep. Hal wonders if Robin can hear his kick drum heartbeat in the 

"You said my name," Robin says eventually, turning his head to look at him. Hal can see the bright blue of his irises in the moonlight. 

Hal looks back up at the ceiling. He feels like he's walking on a knife's edge. Just because Robin didn't say anything doesn't mean it didn't freak him out - and if Hal denies it, then maybe he can still have a relationship with Robin, even if it's just the friends-with-benefits thing they've been continuing. 

He really, _really_ doesn't want to lose Robin. In any way. 

But he's never wanted to lie to him. That might damage Robin's trust in him more than any stupid fantasy could. 

"Yeah," he says, staring unblinking up at the ceiling. He feels like he's just confessed a lot more than saying a name. All he can hear is their breathing. 

Robin kisses his cheek, then his jaw. He threads a hand through Hal's on his ribs and squeezes. It feels like an answer, but Hal doesn't dare ask to what. 

Hal turns to kiss Robin properly, and Robin kisses back easily. 

"Get some sleep," he says, and settles in on the pillow beside Hal to sleep. 

\-- 

Hal wakes up on his back with a start, eyes snapping open as his dream suddenly stops - it takes a second for him to pull himself out of the fog - very _horny_ , _vivid_ fog - and when he does, he realises two things. 

One, the dream - which he remembers, in way too much detail, and involved a _lot_ of Robin - has left him _embarrassing_ morning wood. 

And two, Robin's awake next to him, yawning as he rolls onto his side to face Hal. 

"Morning," Robin says. "Wow, it's hot under here." He starts to push the covers down, but Hal frantically grabs onto the ones on him. He's sweating, but it's the only thing protecting him right now. The basketball shorts don't hide _anything_. 

"Hal?" Robin asks, and then glances at where Hal's hands are bunched around the edge of the covers over his hips. In one excruciating second, his eyes widen and flick back up to Hal's face, something indecipherable flitting across his face. "Hal, are you - " 

"I - I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Hal says, shutting his eyes. "Fuck me, I'm so sorry." His cheeks feel hot. 

"No, no, it's - " Robin swallows audibly. "Um." 

"Look, this doesn't usually happen - " Hal starts, but Robin interrupts him. 

"I don't mind," he says quietly. Hal should move. He should definitely leave the bed. 

Then, Robin, hesitant. "Can...Can I watch?" 

Hal's heart almost stops in his chest. Robin's hand hovers over his ribs. 

"Watch?" He asks, his voice tipping high. Robin flushes. 

"Yeah, after - " Robin rests his hand back on the bed between them, glancing down at his fingers. "After yesterday, I couldn't, um - I couldn't stop thinking about it." 

" _Oh_ ," Hal breathes. Robin looks back at him. The tips of his ears are bright pink. 

"I didn't know how to bring it up," Robin explains. "And you seemed so embarrassed, I didn't want to - push you." 

"I thought I freaked you out," Hal says. The conversation is not tamping down his persistent boner one single fucking bit. 

"You definitely didn't," Robin says. "Promise." 

"Huh." Hal thumps his head against the pillow and licks his lips. "Good." 

"It was hot," Robin murmurs, blunt, and Hal's eyes snap to him. There's familiar details rapidly forming on Robin's face - the parted lips, the questioning flicker of interest in his eyes, the pinch of his eyebrows - 

"Would it be okay?" He asks. Plain. Simple. Open. "If - " 

"Yes," Hal blurts out, although the thought of Robin _watching_ him makes his toes curl with a hot mix of pleasure and acute embarrassment. But fuck it, he's willing to try anything. Robin sucks in a sharp breath. 

"Fuck, okay, let me just - let me just go to the bathroom first," Robin says, and hops out of the bed to do so. 

Hal lays there, dick hard and head reeling, and silently accounts for all of last night in a single really horny thought - _Robin wants to watch_. He's almost dizzy, but sits up against the headboard anyway to get comfy. Then, in a stroke of what he might be able to call genius later, he tugs off his shirt and pushes down his shorts just enough to free himself, wrapping a hand around his base and dragging it up to the head in a slow, dry stroke. 

Robin stops in his tracks when he opens the door. 

"Holy shit," he breathes, and watches as Hal strokes himself again. 

_Yeah, genius_ , Hal thinks, cocking a knee up as Robin approaches. But instead of settling down on the other side of him, Robin places a knee on the bed and swings the other over Hal, _straddling_ him. Hal flushes at the proximity, pausing his hand. Robin sits carefully on his thighs and leans forward to kiss him, bracing his hands on the headboard either side of Hal. His lips are slightly chapped, his breathing is already uneven, and he's a welcome weight on Hal's lap, kissing all the goddamn sense out of him as Hal's hand goes slack around himself. 

"Keep going," Robin murmurs into it, pressing his lips over Hal's cheek, down his stubbly jaw, as Hal collects enough brainpower to start moving his hand again. 

Robin pulls back a little to glance down and watch - the back of Hal's neck grows hot. It's an odd mix of pleasure and humiliating, him jacking himself off while Robin just sits and watches, fully clothed. 

Hal truly cannot say he's not loving this, and he wonders what that says about him. 

He decides he doesn't mind when Robin kisses him again. 

Robin's lips dot a path over Hal's cheekbone, his jaw, and end up at his ear, and Hal can feel his little grin before he speaks. 

"Were you thinking of me yesterday?" 

Hal squeezes his eyes shut and nods. 

"What was I doing?" Robin whispers. Hal's cheeks _blaze_. 

"Actual - Actually like this," he replies, giving himself a satisfying little squeeze around the head. "Teasing. Not touching me." God, this is _embarrassing_. Embarrassingly _hot_. He reaches up with his other hand to grab Robin's hip. Quick as lightning, Robin pins Hal's wrist to the headboard. 

"Hands to yourself," he warns. 

Hal _whimpers_. 

Robin exhales shakily against his ear. 

"Interesting," he mumbles. Hal's hips buck up helplessly. 

"Anything else we were doing?" Robin pulls back a little to look down, and Hal feels light-headed with how much blood rushes to his face. 

"I was - touching you, too," he manages through sharp little pants. "Fuck, you were so hot." It's even more humiliating when there's space between them. Hal's torn between enjoying it and the temptation to come already, but for now, the enjoying wins out, so he keeps his hand slow and steady. Robin swears quietly. He licks his thumb and brushes it around Hal's slit in a circle. Hal's hips jump. 

"I thought you wanted to watch," He snarks, but it comes out more pathetically breathy. "Not playing fair." 

Robin cocks an eyebrow at him. 

"Make me," he challenges. Hal's head thumps back loudly against the headboard with his ragged noise. Robin immediately dives in under his jaw, scraping his teeth over Hal's jugular and chuckling at the low moan it elicits. He rests his free hand on Hal's hip. 

"Please," Hal breathes, head spinning with the tempting weight of Robin on his lap, with the sensation of air cooling the spit Robin left on his cock. 

"Please what?" Robin asks between hickeys. 

"Just _please_ ," Hal whines, his hips rocking up to meet him, now, his own body impatient with the pace of his hand. 

His skin tingles all over, thighs tense under Robin, jaw set - Robin pulls back again just to watch, and Hal has to close his eyes, screwing them shut as he jacks himself faster. Robin rolls his hips downwards, instinctive, and Hal bites back a moan, feels himself leak against his thumb anyway. It's not long before he's hovering at the edge, desperately fucking his hand - almost like déjà vu, but so, so _very_ different from yesterday. 

He dares to open his eyes to peek at Robin, and the sight crashes into him like a freight train - Robin biting his lip, Robin's hips twitching forward, his forearm flexing where his hand is resting on Hal's hip. 

And he's looking right at Hal. Not at his cock, at _him_ , and it punches all the air out of his lungs. It's fucking inevitable now, sensation rushing at him from all angles as his hand grows slicker, toes curling and muscles trembling. 

"Fuckfuckfuck," he whispers, closing his eyes briefly before looking at Robin again. "Ro - _Robin_ , _fuck_ \- " It breaks into an abrupt moan as he comes over his fist, the angle of his hand spilling some of it back on himself - he tips his head back and moans low with the next pleasant shiver that runs through him, sending a thrill of vibrant aftershocks through his limbs. 

He barely has a chance to stop shaking before Robin surges forward to kiss him, both hands sinking deep into Hal's hair. He kisses greedily, _hungrily_ , scooting up on Hal's lap and responding eagerly to the fingers Hal roughly pushes up against him over his sweats. 

"Do you want - " Hal starts, wet lips brushing Robin's. 

"No, no, I'm close, fuck, please," The words spill desperately out of Robin and send a searing bolt of arousal straight through Hal - _he_ did that, Robin watching _him_. _Fuck_. 

"Yeah, yeah," Hal reassures, but his reply is swallowed by another fierce kiss. Robin's fingers flex in his hair, his hips grind _hard_ down onto Hal's fingers, and Hal is honestly just trying to hold on at this point, his muscles automatically relaxed from his orgasm but his arm tensed to create enough pressure for Robin. 

Robin's kisses grow increasingly sloppier the rougher his hips get, and all of a sudden he's shuddering on Hal's lap, moaning brokenly into his mouth as he comes. It's exactly like his fantasy, thighs knees clamping to Hal's thighs, but infinitely better in-person, feeling the feedback loop of fingers to cock to hips to mouth as trembles ripple their way up Robin's body. Hal loops his other arm around Robin's waist and slows his rubbing a little, gentles it - 

Robin's hand drops to his shoulder, fingers digging in _hard_ into the muscle there, and he whimpers something about _keep going, keep - please, please, Hal, Ha-al_ , and who is Hal to deny that? He groans roughly into his mouth and gets his hand back up to speed, kisses messily down Robin's stubbly jaw, right back to the bolt of it, where any attention makes Robin shiver in his arms. He jacks Robin until his fingers are sore from the tense position he's kept them in, and powers right fucking through it until Robin's shaking with another orgasm again, riding off the back of the first one. 

This time, Hal slows his hand and soon afterwards, Robin knocks it away, too busy catching his breath to tell Hal he's sensitive. Hal settles his hands on Robin's hips and rubs gentle circles into them with his thumbs, leaning up eagerly for every kiss Robin gives. 

When they separate, both of their lips are swollen and red, although Hal can feel the indents of Robin's teeth on his. He runs his tongue over them and shivers a little at it. Robin shoves a hand through his hair and sits back down on Hal's thighs. 

"Wow," Hal breathes. "I don't think I've ever seen you come that quickly." 

Robin flushes pink. But he still smirks. "Can't help it. You were hot." 

It's Hal's turn to blush, then, but he doesn't take his eyes off Robin. Robin leans in for another, much softer kiss. 

"We should do that again," he mumbles - Hal nods but doesn't break the kiss, letting Robin's warmth seep through him. A few more slow, lazy kisses follow, accompanied by slow, lazy hands that end up nowhere. 

"I can make pancakes for breakfast," Hal murmurs, and Robin makes an exaggerated moan that bubbles into laughter from them both. 

"Let me at least clean up first." 

Hal grins wickedly, and slowly winds his arms around Robin's middle. 

"What if I do that for you?" He asks, and flips them with no warning. Robin gasps as his head hits the pillow - Hal keeps his momentum going, sliding down Robin's body until his mouth is at Robin's waistband. Robin splays his legs. Hal cocks an eyebrow, asking permission before he continues. 

" _Fuck_ ," Robin curses, nods, and sinks his hand into Hal's hair as Hal tugs his sweats down. 

"Think you can come again?" Hal feels filthy just _asking_ , but the breathless, _cocky_ laugh that answers him makes him feel even _filthier_. 

"You can definitely try." And Robin hooks his leg over Hal's shoulder and Hal doesn't do a whole lot of talking after that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over at [halifax-jordan](https://halifax-jordan.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, come say hi! 
> 
> Still do not interact if you ship incest.


End file.
